#this thought is so common in fanfic spaces that I have to push back on it each time I see it

[twosides--samecoin]

Writers get over the perfect or bust mentality challenge

The manuscript for a published novel was passed back and forth several times between an editing team and author for anywhere between several months to a few years. A fic author you look up to who produces amazing works probably doesn't do it perfectly the first try; they probably draft before they post!

It is. So. Much. Easier. To treat writing as a process. Than it is to self sabotage by treating writing as though it must be perfect the first time. You don't look at a painting in a museum and think, "That must have been done in one go", you probably accept that it began as a sketch and came together over time. You will grow so much faster as an artist of any kind if you stop self limiting with, "It wasn't perfect the first time I tried :(" and start using your perfectionism to your advantage. Draft your work, learn how to edit; develop a relationship with the thing. Start caring about storycraft and improving your skills instead of wallowing because it wasn't "perfect" the first time.

"I have to write something perfect and earth shattering" love that for you. Weaponize your perfectionism, meditate on your ego, do whatever it is you gotta do but you have got to put in the goddamn work and stop approaching writing with this "Either I'm a genius or I'm complete shit" mentality

YOU can write whatever you want whenever however forevrr. i have to write something perfect and earth shattering and i have to do it perfectly the first time or else

[laurellala-comics]

I've been having so much fun with my Ace Attorney comics lately but I've been feeling the pull to do original stuff again. So to ease into the transition, here is my (very first!) comedy zine. You may spot some familiar faces B)

Thanks for reading my goofiness! I'm including some nerd thoughts about zines under the cut

Zines are sooo cool and I assume most people have heard of them since this is tumblr BUT if you haven't! Zine is short for magazine (pronounced "zeen" it does not rhyme with vine). It usually refers to handmade pamphlets that can be created by folding and cutting a single sheet of paper, which is what I did, but it can be used for any sort of self made publication. The goal is to make something that can be reprinted and shared so mine is technically not in the spirit of that because of all my little interactive details but shh that's fine. Zines have been used in sooo many ways (Was Martin Luther's 95 theses not in a way the first zine (this is a joke)) but they are especially recognized as part of the punk movement as a way of fighting back against mainstream media and of sharing information around! It was a way to get around censorship and spread the word about social movements and political messages buuuut it has also always been used to share fun things, like music recommendations OR FAMOUSLY. STAR TREK SPOCK KIRK FAN FICTION (this is real and there are academic papers about this). Some of the earliest m/m fanfic was passed along through zines because they did not have ao3 back then! All they had was a typewriter and a dream! It's actually sooo silly, but I took a class in college that heavily emphasized these zines as leading to the fandom culture we had today, so they really did shape the world we live in today. Tumblr posts are like our own little zines that we share, with our own messages and thoughts and yes even hand drawn gay people...

Anyway, like I mentioned, in these fandom spaces you had queer zines that were about explicitly romantic and sexual relationships between fictional men. At the time, slash shipping was not the most common way to engage with fandom, but today it has become very mainstream and widely accepted amongst the fandom. But you know what queer behaviors are still not mainstream within fandom spaces, even within queer fandom spaces? Aro ace rep babyyyy. With that in mind, I feel like what is considered radical and abnormal these days in queer fandom spaces is to engage with fictional men (or any characters) from an aromantic or asexual lens. And so I am here to hold your hand and walk you through the wonderful radical world of imagining non-romantic scenarios with fictional guys. You can have so much fun with it and I think more people should do it. What if you stood in line at the bank and your favorite anime man was in front of you. What if you had to go in for jury duty and the guy from five nights at freddy's was there. What if you went to the library and spock and kirk were both there researching the history of zines. In a world that expects us to prioritize one normative romantic and sexual relationship as the big thing that will bring you happiness and fulfillment, it is radical to say "actually, i could probably still be really happy and fulfilled if i had some cool friends to hang out with and do mundane things with. And also what if those friends were fictional lawyers."

Anyway. Thank you to all the spirk shippers who worked hard to get us here, I will pick up your mantle and continue to push against societal norms but with fewer sex scenes this time around. Not that you aren't valid for that, this is just personal preference. The end. Go make a zine everybody.

[animeyanderelover]

Tw: Yandere themes, possessive behavior, obsession, clinginess, paranoia, abduction, Nsfw, masturbation, dubcon, oral sex, size kink, praise kink, mirror sex, ropes, handcuffs, overstimulation, breeding kink, afab reader

Tags: @lovley-valentine7

Nsfw Hc's

🩵​I feel like fanfic writers don't talk enough about the fact that this man must be so touch-starved. His Infinity is activated all the time, people cannot touch him unless he allows it. So the amount of clinginess that he exhibits with his darling is perhaps in that regard justified. A dam is broken the moment that he falls in love with you and the desire to touch and to be touched is flowing freely out of him. Smothering hugs, suffocating kisses, hands constantly all over you. It's a daily life that you are forced to endure from the moment his obsession blossoms. It's excessive but in the beginning it is not sexual. There's much that Gojo has to do as of now still with his mind filling with paranoia. Your safety has to be ensured, potential enemies have to be obliterated, all competition must disappear. As much sweetness comes with his infatuation, the stress always follows closely and doesn't allow any amorous thoughts in his mind just yet. A semblance of calmness only settles once you are in his apartment, stuck and safely tucked away. Only then is there free space in his head for thoughts and feelings that are much more erotic and intimate as a new desire manifests.

🩵​Gojo initiates it, tries to do so at least. Hands slide under your shirt, tracing over the cups of your bra whilst his lips travel down to your neck, smothering it with rough kisses. Only that he stops whenever you tense up or push him away, blue eyes filled with a hunger that he tries to hold back. For now your unwillingness holds him back though it will eventually not be a free pass to use anymore. A part of Satoru wants you to reciprocate, wants to see that you yearn for him as much as he does for you. He is not delusional enough to ever genuinely believe that though. He tries to be satiated with the kisses and the hugs you reluctantly tolerate, with jerking himself off but it is not enough. Not in the long run. What he needs isn't something his own hands can provide him with and the longer you refuse, the pushier and needier you grow in return. Frustration bubbles up within him as something is denied from him, something he desperately needs if his painfully hard boner is anything to go by. It will happen, it is inevitable. A realisation you cannot deny yourself until eventually you allow it out of fear to see what he would do if you were to continue to push him away.

🩵​Still, your reluctance is hard to ignore and almost threatens to disturb Gojo the first time that he takes you. It is that reluctance that results in the speed he always claims you forever after. Within his home he makes free use of all the space that he has as he ends up fucking you wherever space is available. There is at one point no room left where he hasn't undressed you and slams his aching cock into you. The kitchen counter, the shower, the bathtub, the couch or even the floor are witnesses to long and intense sex between him and you, mixed fluids always staining the surface by the end of it all. His tongue is always eager and fast to enter you the moment your panties are gone, pushing greedily deep within your plush and hot walls, his hot breath fawning over your sensitive pussy as he eats you out like a starved mutt. Your reluctance would be poison for a situation he needs to be intimate and filled with mutual desire which is why he resorts to the strategy where he doesn't even give you any time to properly think. Instead his large hands squeeze your hips greedily as he pushs your pussy closer to his face as he forces an orgasm out of you without giving you any time to process.

🩵​Overstimulation is common and constant as first his tongue and later his long cock force you into orgasm and moments of only bliss and no thoughts. He loves fucking you out of your mind but not because he feels sadistic nor because he plans to degrade you. No, it is simply because in this state you just give in to your desire and reciprocate his own needs. It is not perfect, not yet what he wishes for the both of you to have but it is the best he can get for now and so he latches onto it eagerly. Every plea, every whimper of his name sends electricity straight into his pulsing dick, his hips snapping against yours almost painfully as shallow and rapid pants escape his lips, his hot breath fawning your face. His greed tires you quickly as your head starts pounding and your legs start hurting yet any begging of yours for him to stop is cut off by his lips muffling all process, by his husky voice telling you that you can take more as he starts thrusting faster into you, pushing you over the edge once more. He leaves you so exhausted by the end of it all that you have little to no strength left to get angry at him or to say anything that would ruin the blissful experience he just shared with you.

🩵​He resorts to physical restriction during times where you are difficult. His own strength is more than enough to restrain you yet he prefers to have them all over your body, reverently running over every curve and inch of your figure. That is how your wrists end up cuffed or tied to the bed as you lose half of your ability to defend yourself even just the tiniest bit, your legs spread apart with ease to reveal to Satoru's blue eyes what he needs the most in that moment. All the tugging and desperate wriggles of your hands to free them often result in your skin being raw by the end of it all, a burning stinging located within your wrists. His own lips always press kisses all over the raw skin as a silent apology whenever he releases your hands, a tiny spark of guilt in his eyes. He discovers his kink for mirror sex by accident whilst fucking you in front of one in the bathroom and glancing at the reflection. The different angles reflected in the glass and even the fact that you can see within the reflection how you get fucked turns him on. He starts ordering an entire bunch of mirrors, places them everywhere and always fucks you in a position where you have a perfect view of the many reflections staring back at you.

🩵​His strategy of pushing you relentlessly into euphoria after euphoria works as you often end up downright delirious. Otherwise you would have noticed one thing much earlier, something that worries you quite a lot the moment you finally realise it. Satoru never pulls out. He doesn't use any protection as that would rub him of the pleasure and the feeling of plunging into your warm walls and he never pulls out whenever he feels his balls tightening either. No, instead you notice that he always makes sure to bury himself inside of you, the tip of his cock nearly kissing your womb as he lets out a choked moan as he shoots his load deep within you. Filled with a dread of what this could mean you confront him quickly about this, question him why he never pulls out of you. He hesitates, a reaction that has your heart pounding nervously when he is faced with your own discomfort. Instead blue eyes land on your stomach, an answer enough already before he eventually admits that he has been thinking a lot about a child with you lately. For now it is only a fantasy as he still allows you to take the pill but you should know that the more you deny him, the more he will end up wanting it.

[emkayewrites]

Another Behind The Scenes of Luke and Nicola rehearsing THAT sex scene taken from my Lukola fanfic. In my universe, this was just practice for them ;)

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

15th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

Luke leaned over until he was on top, supporting his body weight with arms that enclosed her from either side.  She observed that he was not quite his usual alert self and his tousled hair and sleepy eyes evidenced this.  He was clearly sleep-deprived, a common issue afflicting most of the actors and crew at this stage of the production. 

Luke lowered himself so that his lips were right next to hers; the strong minty smell of toothpaste overpowered her senses.

He probably didn’t even get his morning coffee.  She thought to herself.

He delicately ran a hand across her forehead and over her hair.  It was a tender albeit unscripted moment.

“Can I follow that with a closed mouth kiss?” He asked, a small smile spreading across his face.

Another action that was not scripted.

“It feels right.” She smiled back.

He pressed his lips to hers and she felt her mouth tingle in response.  It was likely the most chaste kiss she had ever experienced but there was something about it that excited her nonetheless.  It was exactly how she imagined Penelope and Colin would be; shy but hungry, wanting more and more of one another but still somewhat hesitant.

As Luke pulled back, his face above her again, their eyes briefly met before he looked down as he manoeuvred himself above her into position.  The position.  She found herself instinctively placing a hand on his chest to stop him.

“Wait.” She breathed. “Don’t break eye contact.”

He nodded in response.  They both started to move together in the slow, rhythmic motions of coitus, their eyes never leaving the others.  She had been right about the eye contact.  There was something about it that added to the intensity of the moment.  She wondered where his mind was right now as they made these sensual movements together. 

The modesty cushion that was placed in the gap between their pelvic regions pressed into her, and she felt a light pressure down there. 

She felt the cushion shift and then she felt the distinct motions of the cushion not only pushing down on her but also rubbing against her.  She was pretty sure that was not supposed to happen.  She let out an audible gasp of surprise.  Despite it being off-script, Luke responded with a mischievous smile and quickened his pace above her.  She thought that he was clearly reading this as Penelope showing enthusiasm and passion.  The friction between her and the cushion increased and she was beginning to realise that it was not entirely soft, it in fact had pretty hard edges.  She found her heart racing at the sensations that were starting to happen between her legs and pressed a hand into his chest, as if pushing him away.

“Oh, oh!” She exclaimed breathlessly. “That’s touching, that’s touching!”

He was quick to respond, a look of concern crossing his face.

“Wait, what?” He pulled back, sitting up and appraising the neutral-toned, heart-shaped cushion that had been between them. 

“Nothing could be touching - the cushion remained in place.”  Lizzy stood up from the armchair she was seated in and walked towards to them.

They were on set in the room where this scene would be filmed in front of the crew and the cameras.  They were rehearsing with just Lizzy, trying to finalise their choreography using the real space where the action would occur.  Nicola and Luke were situated on a large check-patterned chaise longue that they had been told would likely be used in the actual filming.

“It might have looked in place, but it felt like it was going up and down the place, if you catch my drift.”  Nicola explained, using her elbows to support herself into an upright position.

Luke’s eyes widened as he took in her meaning. “You mean…?”

“Yeah.” She smirked.  She marvelled at how comfortable she was with admitting something like this.  The instinct to feel embarrassed or awkward about anything relating to their intimacy scenes had long left them both. 

“Wow, you’re welcome.” He joked.

She could not help but to cackle in laughter at the remark. 

“Oh, drat.” Lizzy was appraising the cushion with a frown. “I think this needs to be glued or strapped down to stop that happening.”

Nicola pictured herself, all but butt-naked, with the modesty cushion glued to her nether regions as she paraded herself through a set filled with, amongst others, the director, the cinematographer, and the grip.  She could tell from the amusement spreading across Luke’s face that the same image had crossed his mind.

“I knew I was going to look a little ridiculous, but I think we’ve reached the peak here.”

“Hmm, I think it needs to be fastened to both of you to prevent rubbing on either end really.” Lizzy had barely registered Nicola’s comment, instead she was turning the cushion this way and that, her mind already in problem-solving mode.

“I stand corrected.” Nicola quipped, the visual of her and Luke attached to one another’s nether regions through a cushion taking over her thoughts.

“Great, we’ll be a really sexy pair of conjoined twins.” Luke remarked, making Nicola snigger.

“Hmm, I think we’ll need to take this over to Wardrobe and see how we can attach this to the modesty garments.” Lizzy continued. “Why don’t we break for an hour and that will give me time to whip something up with this?”

This was not what Nicola had wanted to hear.  They had only started their rehearsal twenty minutes prior to this.  It was not setting a good precedent for the rest of the day.  As enticing as it was to be given regular breaks, those breaks also served to elongate what was already going to be a very long day.  She could sense Luke was feeling the same way from the face he pulled.

“Well, I guess we could rehearse other parts of the scene while we’re in here.” He suggested.

Lizzy’s expression quickly changed into one they rarely saw. 

“I really wouldn’t recommend that.” Lizzy stated sternly. “This is a safe space to work out boundaries and consent and my presence helps to ensure that from a professional but also legal standpoint.”

“I think we can handle it. I feel like we’ve got the consent and boundaries well laid out.” Nicola added in support of Luke.  “Honestly, it almost felt like you weren’t even in the room now.”

Lizzy blinked at her with the same unchanging look on her face.  “As much as I’m glad you’re so comfortable in my presence that I may as well be furniture in the room now – I am still in the room, and that part is important.”

Nicola was not sure she was entirely convinced but understood that this seemed a non-negotiable.

“Fair enough.  I won’t protest to work more when I could be taking breaks.” Nicola shrugged.

“Good.  I’ll see you guys at eleven o’clock.  Why don’t you grab a cuppa and go for a walk - it’s lovely out there!” The smile returned to Lizzy’s face; she seemed content that her point had been made.  She disappeared from the room, cushion tucked under her arm, leaving them to collect themselves.

“You’re thinking it, right?” Luke fixed Nicola with a knowing look.

“That it’s a stupid rule and we are going to take any opportunity to practice that we can?” Nicola asked.

“Yeah!” He enthused.

“Yeah, I was thinking it but I’m surprised Mr. Never Even Jaywalks is.” She teased. “Are you sure your conscious will allow it?”

“Why do it when there’s a zebra crossing or traffic light on every street? Why even take that risk?”  His voice was tinged with an annoyance that served to amuse her further.

“You’re right, there should be special prisons for those people.” Her tone was mocking, and he rolled his eyes at her.

“Alright, well we’ll start with breaking a set rule or two, and we’ll work our way up to the ol’ jaywalk.” Nicola reassured him. 

“Rehearsing extra hours is not really a rule break.” He replied dismissively, almost as if to reassure himself.

“This is going to break your brain, isn’t it?” She snickered. 

“I’m not gonna be given a hard time for following rules, thanks.” He intonated, raising his hands in the air in a back off gesture. “But some rules are made to be broken.”

As soon as the words left his lip, she could tell he regretted them.

“Did ya just hear your voice out loud and realise how lame you sounded?” She asked.

“I really can’t pull that statement off, can I?” He sighed. 

She laughed and wrapped an arm around his neck.  “Well, at least you’re self-aware about it.”

He pulled an arm around her waist in return.  These were actions they hardly thought about.  There was an instinct that kicked in that made them reach for each other, physically or emotionally. It was something that had developed gradually and was now a feature of their relationship. 

“We’ll have to rehearse those scenes in one of our trailers when Lizzy’s not around then.” He suggested. "Could head there now?”

"I've never known anyone so keen to break the rules!" 

"It's not a rule if it's stupid." Luke continued to insist as they left the room, arm in arm.

She burst into laughter at his words.  She had already been having fun but she sensed things were only going to get more entertaining.

[bleue-flora]

For absolutely no reason whatsoever, I feel like we should talk about Limbo. Because it’s a interesting topic with lots of space for theories and perhaps this will help us come back to some common ground of discussion, and be an open enough topic to allow everyone, whether someone who just joined the fandom or has been here for years, to hopefully feel safe and welcome enough to join in and share their thoughts and opinions. Go ahead and use the tag #dsmp limbo so I can see your thoughts, there is no right or wrong answer here.

To start off the discussion, we know the time dilation based on what Wilbur has said is about 30/1 - meaning every 1 second is 30 seconds in limbo, every 2 minutes is 1 hour in limbo, every 48 minutes is 1 day in limbo, every 1 day is a about 1 month in limbo and so on just to give you perspective. We also know based on both what happens in the finale and by what Dream says in the finale, that Limbo changes based on how you die and the circumstances around your death.

Now here are my thoughts at the moment on the matter. While a lot of times I see Limbo in fanfics more personalized to the person killed, one theory I came up with to explain Limbo is that it is actually is more connected to the situation around the death and killer/death.

For example, Schlatt died of a stroke and his limbo then becomes a gym, themeing off the fact of becoming healthy and fit something he wasn’t in life. That lead to his nation being taken over and him not being physically capable to stop it as well as him dying to a stroke, which we are encouraged to believe is caused by his alcoholism.

But I feel like perhaps Schlatt’s is the easiest to connect, Wilbur’s on the other hand is a little weirder. But I think the train station is actually connected to Philza having just arrived, so the relation to travel. Trains are often kept on a schedule to be on time and Philza’s appearance is just in time to kill Wilbur, but too late to stop him from pushing the button.

Mexican Dream’s limbo then reflects more of Dream than of Mexican Dream. With an empty, unfinished nation not unlike how empty and isolated Dream likely felt, as well as angry about nations for being the cause.

This theory becomes a little stronger when looking at Tommy’s 1st Limbo being an existence of basically nothing. And I think this reflects how Dream kinda has nothing at this point. Also relating to how Tommy killed the cat (and am I miss remembering that he also burned his clock?) the only thing(s) Dream had left. It could alternatively relate to an empty stomach adding an element from his death being from the potato.

Rambo’s limbo then connects to Sam for a few reasons, one I think Sam felt very alone in his efforts to keep Dream locked up. Like only he could do it and no one was helping him. It is also similar in the fact that Sam felt so cornered and trapped like killing Ranboo was the only thing he could do, similar to how one would feel stuck on a tiny island surrounded by water that burns. It’s also interesting since for Ranboo, the island is also inescapable like the prison and he is only able to leave when Mexican Dream comes (like Dream only escaping prison when Techno comes), oh and Sam lives on an island too.

Then finally Tommy’s 2nd Limbo I think pretty clearly relates to Tommy asking before he died about why and how Dream saw things, and Dream’s comment of “everything was fine before you came!” so Limbo shows Tommy Dream’s pov at the beginning. Reflecting how Dream feels, his - “I just don’t want to ever be alone.”

Anyways, hopefully that made some sense, those are just some thoughts I have at the moment. Now I wanna hear yours. :) How do you think limbo works? What do you think Punz’s and Dream’s Limbos were? What were Vik’s, Lazar’s and Connor’s Limbos? What do you think would have been Tubbo’s, Techno’s or other character’s Limbos? How was Quackity able to visit Schlatt’s Limbo in the Las Nevadas stream?…

[marsnolias]

Earthspark season 2 Beachcomber and Cosmos fanfic I pounded out after a sudden flash of inspiration yesterday I guess.

Does not contain spoilers for season 3

Cosmos huffed under his breath. Cybertron had no atmosphere, so he never had to account for wind speed, but earth did. His massive, bulky shape was anything but aerodynamic, being designed for the vacuum of space rather than a planet's atmosphere.

All that meant he was not the greatest of fliers, especially when there was a massive storm right above where he was supposed to be landing.

"Cosmos to Autobot base. Do you read me? …hello? Anybody?"

The world seemed to explode in a burst of light and sound as lightning struck his hull. It didn't really hurt — he built to withstand much harsher inpacts — but it was still disorienting.

By the time Cosmos' processor stopped spinning, he realized his altimeter was reading twenty feet and dropping. Fast.

He tried to pull up, but only succeeded in wobbling precariously. He collided with a tree, then another, smashing through them like they were twigs.

The gravity of earth was so much higher than he was used to, and the impact jarred every sense he had.

"Cosmos to Autobot base," he warbled. "I've crash-landed… somewhere."

He transformed, staggering to his feet. Cosmos had to use his thrusters to push himself up, the gravity too strong for his usual grace. He looked around, trying to get his bearings, but there was nothing but trees, rocks, and a lot of rain.

Water wasn't too common in the galaxy, and Cosmos had never gotten used to it. It was cold and it made everything wet, including the ground, which had turned to mud and was now caked onto Cosmos' frame.

"Why does it have to be raining?" Cosmos grumbled, wiping his optics with the back of his servo.

The rain was coming down in sheets, making it almost impossible to see anything more than a few feet in front of him. His systems were already off-kilter from the lightning strike and the rough landing. Far too big to shelter under anything, Cosmos decided the best course of action was to pick a direction and start walking.

He stumbled forward, his sensors on high alert for any signs of life. The dense forest was eerily quiet, the rain muffling all other sounds. It made him feel even more isolated than he usually did in the vast expanses of space. "Cosmos to Autobot base, I'm currently traveling… North, probably. Maybe? No, wait, it's East."

A rustle from behind him had Cosmos' head swiveling 180 degrees, his body turning to face the source of the disturbance. He saw nothing but the swaying of wet leaves and branches.

"Please be a deer, please be a deer," he said. "If you're not a deer, then show yourself!"

The rain grew heavier, each droplet feeling like a tiny hammer on his metal skin. He took a tentative step forward, and he began to warm up his wrist-mounted blasters. Just in case.

"Cool it, man," came a deep voice from somewhere in the murky gloom. "You're scaring off the wildlife."

Cosmos' optics narrowed, scanning the rain-soaked foliage. The voice was familiar, but it couldn't be. "Beachcomber?" he called out. "Is that you?"

He stared harder at the foliage, and suddenly he could see a Autobot-shaped silhouette in the bushes, adorned with camouflage in the form of leaves and branches and mud.

"Beachcomber?" he repeated, his voice rising with hope.

The figure raised a servo and wiped the leaves from its face. A bright blue visor was revealed, glowing in the dusk. "In the flesh, or metal, as it were," Beachcomber said.

Cosmos felt a jolt of joy. "Beachcomber! I thought you were dead! Where were you?" He surged forward and grabbed Beachcomber up in his arms, swinging him around.

"Where were you?" Beachcomber said. "Cosmos, put me down, you're going to rust us both!"

His soft, deep laugh went right to Cosmos' spark. "You'll never believe it," he said. "Some human stuck this thing on me, and turned me into a carnival ride. I've been stuck spinning around and around at a traveling fair to this awful music."

He set Beachcomber down, and the two bots looked at each other for a moment, the rain coursing down their frames.

"It's good to see you again, Cosmos." Beachcomber said. "I've been… exploring. You know me, always looking for something new."

The rain didn't seem to bother Beachcomber, who looked surprisingly at home in the earthly environment. His dark blue color was muted by the mud and foliage, making him almost invisible amidst the trees.

"You know the war is over, right?" Cosmos said.

"I know. I'm glad."

"Well, why didn't you come join the Autobots? We could have used a scout like you," Cosmos said.

Beachcomber's expression grew solemn. "I have my reasons," he said, looking away.

Cosmos sensed there was more to the story, but now wasn't the time to press. They had to find shelter. "C'mon, let's get out of this downpour. I don't want to find out I'm not waterproof," he said, starting to walk again.

Beachcomber fell into step beside him. "You know," Beachcomber said after a while, "I've missed the simplicity of this planet. It's… peaceful."

"Simple?" Cosmos echoed, his voice incredulous. "This place is chaos. You can't even step without something squelching underfoot."

Beachcomber chuckled. "That's the beauty of it, though. It's alive. Everywhere you look, there's something new."

"You always were the one for the quiet life," Cosmos said. "So… you remember that wager from way back before the war?"

Beachcomber's visor lit up with amusement. "How could I forget? You bet me you'd find something more interesting than a new rock formation."

Cosmos smirked behind his mask. "Oh, yeah. I found something way more interesting — a rock that brings bots to life."

Beachcomber stopped in his tracks, the rain suddenly forgotten. "You're not serious."

"Dead serious," Cosmos said. "It's called the Emberstone, and it made five brand-new bots. Two of them helped me break out of that carnival, in fact."

"Where's the stone now?"

"It kinda… exploded. But it's alright, the Autobots are tracking down the pieces as we speak, before the Decepticons get their grimy servos on them." Cosmos realized Beachcomber had stopped walking. "What's wrong?"

"So the war restarted," Beachcimber said. "I knew it."

"Well, not really…"

"But there is conflict, right?" Beachcomber sighed. "Man, I thought all that was over."

Cosmos nodded, his shoulders slumping. "It's not like the full-on battles we're used to, but it's definitely not quiet. We're more… scattered. Working to keep the peace and keep the Emberstone shards from falling into the wrong hands."

Beachcomber looked down at his mud-caked feet, the rain plinking off his metal frame. "I see," he said.

"Are you… gonna come with me?"

"No," Beachcomber said. "You know I hate fighting. I just can't do it anymore."

"Well, you don't have to fight. You could do… geological surveying or something! We need all servos on deck, Beach."

But the smaller Autobots was already disappearing into the brush, his silhouette melting back into the foliage. "Sorry, Cosmos. But I like how I'm living now."

Cosmos blinked, but he could no longer see Beachcomber.

[im-a-wonderling]

Love & Hate, Part VII ~ Paul Lahote

Wow, this series is getting more and more popular. This part has one of my favorite scenes in the whole fanfic, so I hope you guys enjoy! @writing-on-the-wahl​, thank you so much for being such a good sport about helping me edit all my fanfics before I post them. You’re the best, and I’m forever grateful. 

Warnings: descriptions of needles and drawing blood

Word count: 9k

Love & Hate masterlist

The two mile walk from his cabin to Sam and Emily’s house took twice as long as it could’ve, but Paul didn’t want to let the wolf out. After so thoroughly losing his freedom of choice last night, he wanted to avoid shifting if at all possible. 

It sent him into a foul mood, the fact that he was tiptoeing around something within himself. Nothing egged at him quite so much as that. 

If Y/N wasn’t around, he wouldn’t have any issues with the wolf. There would be no need for arguing, no need for spontaneous trips to Kansas City, and absolutely no need for Jacob to bite him. Paul ran his hand across his shoulder underneath the sleeves of his tank, over the place where the bite mark had been. The wound had closed fairly quickly thanks to his supernatural healing, but the memories of the pain and embarrassment lingered. 

He was so far gone, so preoccupied with thoughts of a woman that his packmate had to bite him?

And worse than that, the words Jared shared about Y/N being alone wormed around in his brain, joining forces with the wolf’s utter mortification over the fight they’d had. In favor of dealing with the full moon, Paul pushed the memories of the argument aside, but now the full moon was over. Now there was no excuse to make to rid himself of the waves of shame. 

A growl loosed from his throat. 

Paul was easily irritated, he knew that, but Y/N could just get under his skin like no one else ever had. 

Add that to the wolf’s constant, unhelpful commentary about how beautiful she was and how good it would feel to be next to her and how perfect she was…Paul’s path to being the crazy villager everyone laughed about was almost set in stone.

He shook his head, trying to focus on the present. 

Apparently, when Sam had informed Carlisle of the events the night of the full moon earlier this morning, Carlisle had asked for the chance to speak to the pack. Since Paul was intentionally not shifting, he didn’t have the chance to see the memory, but according to what Sam said on the phone, Carlisle had been rather anxious. 

What could have the doctor all tied in knots?

I suppose I’m about to find out, Paul thought as he opened the front door. 

Y/N’s scent hit him like a semi truck, and he immediately clenched his fists, fighting his desires both for more air and more of her smell. 

Had her scent always been this sweet? 

Paul didn’t know, but if her scent was somehow becoming more irresistible to him over time, he might as well take up permanent residence in Kansas City if he wanted to be a functional human being. 

Was there somewhere in La Push Paul could get a scuba tank? If he brought his own air, there was no need to be smelling Y/N’s. 

He shook his head.

Stupid idea. 

He stepped into the house, trying to ignore the intoxicating smell, lest he lose any semblance of common sense he had left. As soon as Paul laid eyes on the scene in the living room, however, he realized he had much bigger problems. 

Jacob sat on the armchair, like he always did, while Sam and Emily stood beside the walkway to the kitchen. A few werewolves lazed about on the furniture while the majority of the pack made themselves at home on the floor. Considering the pack’s rise in numbers, there wasn’t any floor space to spare. 

Carlisle Cullen stood with his back to the fireplace, hands wringing and eyes flitting to look at every werewolf in the room. Leah, perched on the arm of the couch, gave a mock salute when she saw Paul. She was the only one to acknowledge him. The rest of the pack watched the doctor. No one assumed the bloodsucker’s news was of a good variety, but his apparent nerves heightened the highly strung atmosphere. 

The tension in the air was unlike anything Paul had ever experienced.

Paul stood on the other side of the walkway to the kitchen, leaning against the wall, pretending like he knew exactly what to do with his arms. His ears caught the sound of footsteps coming down the hallway, and from the labored gait, he knew exactly who it was. 

When Y/N came around the corner, Paul’s heart seized in his throat. 

He’d forgotten how beautiful she was. It wasn’t just one part of her. It wasn’t only the way her hair framed her face or the sensuous lips or the innate grace she carried, even with her limp. No, her beauty belonged in the whole picture, the balance and colors used in this living painting. 

His insides leapt as she came closer. He wasn’t sure if he’d been existing these past few days because to be seen by her was to exist, and it’d been far too long since they’d last seen each other. 

Paul’s brain came to a screeching halt. 

Those thoughts weren’t his. 

Shut up, Paul grumbled at the wolf. 

Still, the wolf barked in protest as Y/N limped right past him without batting an eye. 

“Y/N,” Sam said congenially.

Instead of saying anything back or even nodding, she pursed her lips, throwing a glare in his direction. When Jacob got up to offer him her seat, she fixed him with the same cold stare and limped over to stand by the wall opposite Paul instead. 

Paul cocked his head, suddenly curious. 

Why was she behaving with such hostility? There was no way she’d forgiven Paul for the comments he’d made after changing her tire, but she wouldn’t take that out on Sam or Jacob. She was unreasonable, but not that unreasonable. 

Which meant something else was going on.

Whatever it was, it most likely had something to do with Carlisle’s studious effort to avoid looking in Y/N’s direction. Didn’t the two of them work together? They’d acted fairly chummy before, so why suddenly did Carlisle look as if there was a tennis ball stuck in his throat? 

Paul suddenly straightened. 

Had some sort of romantic advance been made? Had Y/N…

He didn’t want to finish the thought, not when her smell was calling to him. Not when it took all his strength not to give into the gravity she’d always seemed to have around him. Besides, the doctor was happily married…right?

But what if Y/N was attracted to him? It would make sense because they were both in the medical field, but she wasn’t supposed to be with the bloodsucker, she was supposed to be with him. No one could ever be good enough for her, but Paul was the only one who could be sure to try every day to keep her safe and happy. 

Really, man? Paul asked the wolf. Calm down.

“Alright, Carlisle,” Sam said, arms folded in the stance he typically took when he was trying to look authoritative (Paul had once caught him practicing it in a mirror). “What’s the news?”

Carlisle cleared his throat, and Paul couldn’t help noticing he now looked like a high school boy about to confess to his parents that he’d accidentally gotten a girl pregnant. “Um, well, my family and I…we-we decided not to, uh, tell you about this, but with the events of late, it’s probably best that you know.”

Paul exchanged a nervous look with Jacob. A bloodsucker secret? This couldn’t be good.

“You may recall that some humans have blood that sings to vampires.” Carlisle took a deep breath. “These ‘singers’ are nearly impossible for vampires to resist, especially if they haven’t practiced resisting human blood before.”

“So…it’s like how Bella’s blood sang to Edward?” Jacob asked.

Y/N hadn’t known that, judging by the slight rise of her eyebrows. 

Paul hated the fact he’d even noticed.

“Yes, like that.” Carlisle scratched his neck. Then, his eyes darted in Y/N’s direction, as if it were uncontrollable. 

A flare of some green-eyed, protective need rang through Paul, like Carlisle’s look was a mallet hitting Paul’s bell. “Out with it already,” Paul grumbled, curling his hands into first to keep from storming towards the vampire and bashing his face in. “Some of us have patrols to do.”

Carlisle shoved his hands into his pockets. “As you know, werewolves and vampires are natural enemies.” He paused again, and Paul only just resisted the urge to walk over and shake the words out of him. “I think that’s why this vampire is hanging around.”

Confused murmurs erupted in the room, as mostly everyone still didn’t understand what Carlisle was getting at. 

“What didn’t your family want to tell us?” Sam asked, trying to get straight to the point.

“The blood of a wolf’s imprint sings to all vampires,” Carlisle said.

The whole world ceased to spin, teetering dangerously on its axis.

Paul gaped at the doctor.

How long had the Cullens been sitting on this? Did the Cullens have any idea how much danger they’d put Emily in by not telling the pack this information? Or Kim, Jared’s imprint? Or Quil’s kindergarten imprint? 

Of course, the Cullens kept this to themselves. Renesmee, being half vampire, was most likely immune to this. 

A few growls sounded around Paul, and he knew he was not the only one having a hard time refraining from violence. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Paul saw Sam shift to stand in between the doctor and Emily. “You’re saying,” Sam said slowly, like he was imagining what Carlisle would look like with a broken nose, “that vampires are attracted to the blood of our imprints?”

Carlisle nodded solemnly. “I think that’s why this vampire is hunting Y/N.”

Paul froze. 

In his preoccupation, he hadn’t realized it wasn’t just Emily, Kim, Claire and Renesmee who’d been endangered by the keeping of this secret.

Y/N was too. 

Had someone dumped a colony of fire ants on Paul? He could’ve sworn something was burning his skin, crawling up and down his back and neck. The guilt that had been plaguing him earlier was nothing compared to the tidal wave that rose up in him now. He nearly choked as the full weight of the news sunk in. It was Paul’s fault Y/N was in danger. The vampire wouldn’t be hunting her with such an intensity if Paul hadn’t imprinted on her. 

Paul’s eyes slowly slid to her, suddenly wishing she would look at him so he could guess what she was feeling. 

But Y/N’s eyes stayed on the doctor as a mirthless laugh tumbled out of her mouth. “You’re telling me–” she pushed off from the wall to step in Carlisle’s direction, “–that not only am I stuck with him–” she pointed an accusing finger straight at Paul, “–as my supposed soulmate, I’m now an irresistible snack for all vampires?”

Carlisle winced. “That’s a bit harsh–”

Another bitter and grating laugh came from Y/N, and Paul felt like his insides were shriveling and crumbling away. 

“Dr. Cullen, I think you should leave now.” Sam’s voice was tense, leaving no room for argument. With the speed Carlisle headed for the door, he wasn’t looking for any room anyways. 

Unfortunately, Carlisle left behind only one target for Y/N’s wrath.

She rounded on Paul. “You.” Paul was glad just then for Y/N’s limp, because she wouldn’t be able to chase him if he needed to make a run for it. “You and your imprinting!”

“Y/N, that’s enough,” Sam said the same tone he’d used on Carlisle. 

But of course, where the doctor had fled, Y/N stood her ground. “I’m not one of your lackeys!” she spat at him. “I have a job, Sam, a life that I’ve been shut away from because you guys can’t catch this stupid vampire. And now, you’re only going to shut me up longer while you cross your fingers and twiddle your thumbs!” 

Paul knew he should get involved and make an attempt to calm Y/N down or reason with her. But he couldn’t make himself move towards her. 

“We’ll protect you,” Sam cut in, “just as we have been.”

Y/N advanced on him. “What, are you going to tell me to be patient and sit around this house while I continue to wait for you guys to save the day?!” Sam opened his mouth, but nothing came out, which is how Paul knew that was exactly what he’d been going to say. Y/N shook her head so violently that a lock of hair fell into her face. “No.” She tucked the lock of hair behind her ear in a movement that somehow made Paul’s chest ache. “No, now it’s my turn.”

“What are you going to do?” Sam asked. “Chase the vampire down yourself?”

The little jab at Y/N’s limp made Paul’s breath catch. He knew that Sam’s frustration wasn’t really aimed at Y/N, he knew that. But his hands still rolled into fists, and it took every bit of his strength to keep from flinging himself at the alpha. 

But Y/N didn’t cower or cringe, she only held herself taller. “No, because as you guys have so kindly proved, chasing this vampire doesn’t amount to anything.” Sam’s face soured, and Paul’s shoulders relaxed from their previously murderous stance as a smile fought to break free. Clearly she didn’t need him fighting her battles. 

“We need to lure him,” Y/N said. 

All the members of the pack looked at each other, and Paul didn’t have to be in his wolf form to pick up on their desperation. “How?” Jared asked.

“Bait,” was Y/N’s response.

Every cell in Paul’s body rebelled as his head filled with the yips of rejection from the wolf. “Absolutely not,” he blurted out, causing everyone in the room to look at him, Y/N included. It was hard to focus when he could see the full scope of the anger simmering in her expression, but he managed. “We’re not putting you in danger.”

“I don’t need your permission, and I certainly don’t need any of your protective wolf bullshit.” Paul couldn’t hold back his flinch. “It’s my life on the line, and I’ve had enough of sitting back and hoping that you guys will do your jobs. I say we’re setting a trap.”

Y/N’s icy words made Paul feel cold all over, but he wasn’t about to back down. “Do you have any idea how painful it is to be sucked dry of all your blood?” he asked her. He intended for it to match her levels of venom, but the question came out softly. 

Y/N’s eyes blazed hotter. “I’m no stranger to pain.”

The wolf whimpered. She didn’t deserve pain, nor any other discomfort this world could subject her to. She deserved sunshine. And bouquets of flowers. Gentle kisses and back massages. Bubble baths and–

“Fine then,” Paul managed to say around the wolf’s cascade of thoughts. “Do you have any idea what happens to a wolf when its imprint dies?”

A smile appeared on Y/N’s face, an expression of pure spite. “Well, you’ve wanted to be rid of me since day one, so it seems like a win-win for you.”

All of the sinew in Paul’s body rotted into pain, and he inhaled sharply. He deserved that comment, he knew he did, but it was like Y/N thrust a knife into some deep part of him. Whether that part belonged to him or the wolf, Paul didn’t know.

Not looking the least bit apologetic, Y/N addressed the pack. “The vampire wants my blood. And thankfully for us, I’ve been drawing blood since I started med school.”

Sam raised his eyebrows. “You want to draw some of your blood and use it as a trap?”

Y/N nodded. “Carlisle said it was nearly impossible to resist an imprint’s blood when it’s inside the body. Imagine how irresistible it would be outside of the body.”

Bile burned in Paul’s throat at the idea of any of Y/N’s blood being outside her body.

“It could work,” Leah mused, and Seth elbowed her. “What?” she snapped. “Y/N’s right, our way hasn’t worked. Maybe it’s time for a change of tactic.”

Paul glared at Leah, but she didn’t bat an eye. 

“I’m down,” Seth said, looking completely at ease in his position sprawled on the floor. Paul opened his mouth to argue.

“I’m in too.” Jared’s eyes were far away, likely centered around a fair-haired classmate in need of extra protection. 

“Sam?” Jacob pushed, and Paul wheeled to look at the alpha. 

Sam glanced at his wife, and Paul knew what he was thinking.

If they used Y/N as bait and caught the vampire, Emily would be safe.

Sam rolled his shoulders, preparing for action. “Let’s do it.”

Paul stared around the room at the pack, at his brothers, who’d been gushing about their imprints and telling Paul that he would one day understand. Yet every one of them had thrown Y/N into the way of danger for either a chance at a bloodsucker hunt or their own imprint’s safety. 

Paul’s blood boiled, bringing his body temperature even hotter.

He wanted to rip out his pack’s throats. 

And what’s worse, he knew it was only his own imprint bond making him feel that way. 

This was why.

This whole situation offered more proof than Paul could ever need about the imprinting bond. It always, always did more harm than good. 

As Y/N and the pack launched into brainstorming, Paul shrank against the wall, wishing he could be alone. 

He wanted nothing to do with this plan.

- 

“What do you mean I have to go to the hospital?!” Paul roared at his alpha. It didn’t matter if the two werewolves were all the way across the room; Paul’s raised voice still made me jump. 

He cut me a glance, something urgent simmering in his face, but he turned back to Sam too quickly for me to decipher where the heat was coming from. 

Sam didn’t even blink at Paul’s commonplace display of temper. “We need Y/N’s blood, and the supplies necessary for that are at the hospital. Plus, this way Y/N can check out Emily and the baby to make sure they’re okay.”

“So then you go with them,” Paul snarked. “Why is my presence necessary?”

“Because I’m driving Emily home after we check the baby. And because someone needs to protect Y/N while she draws the blood. Because we don’t want her alone in that hospital with Dr. Cullen. Because she’s your imprint and I’m your alpha.” Sam arched an eyebrow. “Do you need more reasons?”

I glanced at Paul, who, noticing my attention, sat down on the armchair, frowning. I rolled my eyes at his petulance. If I could stomach being in the same room with him, he could too. 

“Emily, are you almost ready?” Sam called, rubbing his forehead. 

“I can’t tie my shoes!” she hollered back from the bedroom. 

“Just wear slip-on shoes then!”

“Sam Levi Uley, stop being a jerk and help me tie my shoelaces!”

All the worry on Sam’s face melted away, giving room for a smitten smile. “Coming,” he said, too quietly for Emily to hear. 

The sweet tone of his words only made it all the more awkward when he disappeared into the bedroom, leaving me alone in the living room with Paul.

His eyes rested on the wall. If I didn’t know better, I would’ve thought he was internally debating something dull, such as the best technique for brushing one’s teeth. But there was no mistaking the way his fingers gripped the arms of the chair or the way his arm muscles were flexing, allowing a sliver of his tattoo to peek out from his short sleeve.

He hadn’t so much as attempted to start a conversation with me, not about my blood singing to vampires, nor what he’d said after changing my tire. Part of me wondered if he waited because he wanted me to break the silence first.

But I didn’t have anything to say that I could tell Paul.

Like, for instance, how would I ever be able to convince a vampire to bite me but leave enough blood in my body to circulate the venom that would change me? If my blood was irresistible, no vampire, no matter how disciplined, would be able to resist even a drop of my blood. It wouldn’t just be a risk, it would be suicide.

Once again, my quest had become harder and more steps were added to my plan. 

Now this vampire had to be dealt with before Paul and I could focus on breaking the bond, and there was a chance of my blood remaining irresistible even after the bond was broken. 

The idea of getting that far and still failing was…unthinkable. 

I tried to shake off the hopelessness swirling around me like fog. Becoming a vampire was my only hope and had been for months. I wouldn’t stop, not even if it seemed impossible. 

I walked into the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of water. I’d barely taken a sip when Emily waddled into the kitchen. “I’m driving,” she announced. 

“Do you think that’s wise?” Sam asked gingerly. His soft tone didn’t land as intended, for Emily turned to glare at her husband, who seemed to shrink a little.

“I’m with Sam,” I said, drawing Emily’s wrathful gaze. But unlike Sam, I’d dealt with expecting mothers before. “Your movement is limited, and that’s not safe for you, your baby, or anyone riding with you.”

Emily narrowed her eyes, but I could tell by her silence that she saw my point. Out of anyone in La Push, my MD probably had the most sway with her. “I’m not riding with Paul,” she finally said flatly. “He’s a maniac when he drives.”

Paul started grumbling under his breath. 

I smiled at Emily, slightly pleased that she’d annoyed him. “You can ride with me.”

“Absolutely not,” Sam interjected. “There needs to be one wolf per car, in case the vampire shows up.” Emily’s obvious exasperation didn’t seem to have the same effect this time around. Sam might’ve been willing to quail on some things, but when it came to vampires and safety, he’d never change his mind, not with the recent news from Carlisle. 

Then the whole room seemed to come to a realization at the same time. 

If Emily wouldn’t ride with Paul and Sam wouldn’t allow her to ride with me…

I shot a glance at Paul, who glanced at me at the same time. He looked away quickly, but I just narrowed my eyes. 

If he didn’t already regret imprinting on me, he would soon. 

-

With his superhuman lungs, one would think Paul’s lung capacity would be upgraded as well. 

As it was, holding his breath lasted him less than a minute. 

Her smell clung to his skin like humidity, and like humidity, it was causing him to sweat badly enough to need a shower. It was difficult to keep still. His limbs contained all this unnecessary energy, making time seem slower. Any time Emily’s car came into view on the road in front of them, Paul stiffened. The anger at his pack had yet to dissipate, and Sam was the worst of the lot. 

Y/N’s eyes never strayed from the road, and her ramrod posture made Paul’s back hurt. Paul didn’t know how it was humanly possible, but she looked even less comfortable than he was. 

When they passed the spot where Paul had changed her tire several days ago, Paul shrunk in his seat a little. Should he apologize? Would Y/N not appreciate the reminder of what’d been said? Or would this awkward tension in the air remain as it was until he apologized?

Apologize, the wolf sang. Apologize, apologize, apologize.

Paul ignored the chanting as much as he could. Despite what the pack and the elders might think, Paul owed Y/N the same she owed him: nothing. He tried to take a steadying breath, but the air laced with her smell did nothing for his inner turmoil.

One step at a time, Paul told himself. First, defeat the vampire. Then, break the bond.

A sharp melody sounded, startling Paul, and the phone in Y/N’s cupholder started vibrating.

“Can you look at that?” she asked.

Paul squirmed. “Umm…I’d rather not.”

“Oh for goodness sake,” Y/N said with a roll of her eyes, “ look at the caller ID.”

“You look at it,” Paul shot back.

“What is your problem?” she snapped. “I’m busy driving, just pick up the phone.”

“No.”

“Pick. It. Up.”

“No!”

“Now!”

“NO!”

The ringing stopped, and Y/N’s fingers whitened as her grip on the steering wheel increased. “Great, now I missed a call because you wouldn’t just look at the caller ID.”

Paul crossed his arms. “I didn’t want to snoop.” Surely she could appreciate that.

“It’s not snooping if you have my permission.” A muscle in her jaw rippled, and he strongly suspected she was grinding her teeth, adding to the bite in her voice. “Curiosity is the most natural thing in the world. The human race would’ve died out long ago if they hadn’t been curious.”

Her clipped tone provided the spark for Paul’s short fuse. “I’d hardly call respecting your privacy an action that will annihilate the human race.”

“Why can’t you just do what I ask?” Y/N grouched. “What’s so hard about picking up a phone?”

“Exactly, so pick it up yourself.”

“I’m driving.” 

Paul threw his hands in the air. “What’s the big deal? There’s hardly anyone else on the road and it would only take you a few seconds!”

“A few seconds is all it takes to get in an accident!” Y/N burst out. Her chest heaved, her body trying to keep up with the rush of blood towards her reddening face. 

Paul stared at the angry splotches on her cheeks. Why had she spoken like that? Like it was a confession born of unspeakable events? Admitting to being an uptight driver wasn’t some dark and terrible secret. 

Y/N shifted her left leg, and with that small action, it clicked.

“You were in an accident.” Paul shifted so he was facing her. “That’s how you injured your leg.” And that was why she was so militant with seatbelts and not texting while driving. 

Y/N grit her teeth, but she repositioned her left leg again. 

“How long ago?” Paul asked before he could stop himself. 

“Mind your own business,” was the cutting reply.

But while her hostility was usually effective in ending any more questions, it couldn’t stop Paul’s curiosity this time. “How bad was the accident?”

“I said–”

“What kind of injury was it? Did you have surgery? Did you break a bone?”

“–mind your own business!”

Paul studied her. He’d freely admit to anyone that he didn’t know his imprint that well, but if the accident was insignificant, Y/N would’ve admitted it, simply to correct him. The only reason she’d be cagey was if it truly was a horrifying event.

She wasn’t angry.

She was afraid. 

His stomach sank. 

He’d assumed that Y/N’s cynicism and rigidity had been attitudes gained after a lifelong struggle. But if it was an accident, it could’ve happened recently. Was that why she’d dropped everything and moved across the country? Was she struggling to cope? Jared’s words came back to him. Right now, she doesn’t have anybody but us. How alone was she? And how alone had she been when she’d been in that accident?

The ringtone started up again, interrupting Paul’s whizzing thoughts. 

Y/N didn’t say anything. Apparently, her tight lips outweighed her sharp tongue. 

Paul reached for the phone. “It says dad.”

If Y/N was grateful to him for finally telling her who it was, she didn’t show it. “Just let it ring. I’ll call him later.”

“Okay.” Paul gingerly set her phone back into the car cup holder. 

Y/N didn’t say anything, clearly preferring silence. But Paul’s mind was racing too much to call the atmosphere ‘silent’.

-

Leading Sam, Emily, and Paul through the Emergency Room entrance was mortifying. 

Even at eight months pregnant, Emily was still walking faster than I was. Apparently carrying a baby the size of a coconut still didn’t compare to my limp. The back of my neck felt hot, as if all the staring somehow kept raising my body temperature. 

All four of us squeezed into an exam room that was clearly not intended to fit a pregnant woman, her doctor, and two overly protective werewolves.

As soon as Emily got onto the exam table, I pulled over the ultrasound machine, accidentally clipping Paul’s foot with its wheels. “Ouch,” he grumbled. I ignored him, focusing on the Ecovue gel bottle.

“Might be a little cold,” I warned her. 

Emily didn’t flinch, her eyes focused on the ultrasound screen that wasn’t displaying anything yet. 

When I pressed the ultrasound wand to her stomach, Sam shuffled closer, capturing her hand and lacing it with his. A tiny heartbeat emitted from the monitor, and I glanced up at the virile alpha to see his eyes glistening. Emily smiled widely, squeezing her husband’s hand. “That’s our baby.”

“Hello, baby,” Sam said quietly. 

I studied the pair. It wasn’t unusual for ultrasounds to be emotional events, but why was Sam behaving as if–

“I’m sorry,” Sam mumbled, looking down at his wife with guilt deeply etched into his expression. “We haven’t even discussed names.”

Emily reached up a hand to cup his face. “It’s okay. You’re out there saving the world.”

Oh. 

Sam hadn’t been to an ultrasound yet. 

Feeling awkward, I glanced over at Paul. 

Paul was looking anywhere but at Emily’s belly or the monitor. His eyes skimmed the cabinets around us, the art intended to be comforting, and even the jars of alcohol pads and tongue depressors. If it wasn’t somewhat inappropriate to laugh during such a sweet moment between a husband and wife, I would’ve. 

I froze the screen before withdrawing the wand and cleaning it up. “Your due date’s in a month.”

Emily tore her eyes away from Sam. “There’s a midwife in La Push that agreed to work with me.” Clearly she remembered what I’d told her at the last ultrasound.

“You’re having the baby at home then?”

“Yes,” Emily said, sounding extremely confident while Sam looked anything but. 

“Honey, are you sure that’s wise?” Sam glanced at the frozen screen. “What if something goes wrong?”

“That’s what the midwife is there for.”

“Still, I’d feel better if we came here.”

Sensing an argument brewing, I got to my feet, wiping away the gel on Emily’s stomach. “I might very well still be sleeping on your couch when you go into labor, so if it makes you feel more confident, I can be there for the birth.”

Sam eyed me, and I knew what he wanted to ask.

“I’m an MD. I’m only a month short of having completed an obstetrics residency. Between the midwife and I, your wife will be just fine.”

Emily clapped her hands. “Perfect. There’s the plan.” She tried to sit up, and Sam immediately helped her before she could fall back again. “Now I’d like to go home.” She awkwardly slid off the exam table before making her way to the door. 

I busied myself with resetting the ultrasound machine. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Sam follow Emily, stopping in front of Paul.

“You’ve got her?” he asked quietly. Was that remorse on the alpha’s face? 

“Yeah.” Paul’s equally soft response spoke of dark promises. 

The exam door opened and closed before I realized which ‘her’ they were talking about. I didn’t know what to say to that, so I decided to say nothing as I led Paul out of the ER. 

I expected him to trail somewhere behind me or in front of me, but instead, he kept time with my labored pace. Somehow, that annoyed me more than if he’d gone ahead or behind me. 

He reached the elevator before I did, but instead of pushing the button, he shoved his hands in his pockets. I sent him a suspicious look. 

What was with the sudden gentleman act? 

I pushed the button, and the doors dinged as they opened. Paul and I walked inside, and I selected the button for the second floor. 

“Hold the door!”

Paul stuck his hand through the rapidly disappearing entrance, and the doors slid open, revealing none other than Carlisle Cullen.

He came to an abrupt stop. If vampires had any blood in their body, all of Carlisle’s would’ve drained from his face just then. Was this reaction due to seeing me?

Then the lift started to shake, creaking and groaning. 

I turned to ask Paul if Forks often got earthquakes when I saw that his whole body was convulsing, and he was staring daggers at the doctor.

Carlisle fell back a step. “I’ll take the next one.”

Paul’s glare didn’t lessen, even as the doors closed, shielding the vampire from view. The floor of the elevator continued to tremble underneath my feet. 

“Paul?” I asked warily. 

The shuddering didn’t cease. 

“Paul?!”

His eyes remained on the elevator doors. Was he having some sort of seizure? I set a hand on Paul’s shoulder, shaking him to get his attention. “Paul!”

Paul blinked, trance seemingly broken. Then his attention shifted to my hand, still resting on his shoulder. 

I withdrew it. “What was that?”

“The wolf,” Paul grumbled, his hands reaching up to fiddle with his stubby braid. “Neither of us are very happy with that bloodsucker right now.”

I couldn’t argue with that, so I led Paul to my office. “Wait here,” I told him before limping to the nearest med supply closet. 

Paul, of course, didn’t comply.

I rolled my eyes. “I told you–”

“I can’t protect you if I’m not with you.” Paul folded his arms imposingly for emphasis, and I tried to ignore the muscle bulging off his arms. 

“You’re not authorized to be in the supply closet.”

Paul shrugged. “Neither is the vampire. I doubt authorization matters much to him.” 

My fingers itched to push him back to my office. With great effort, I continued towards the closet. The faster the blood was drawn, the sooner we could leave and the sooner we didn’t have to be around each other. 

Alcohol wipes.

Medical tape. 

Gloves.

I quickly realized I wouldn’t be able to carry all the supplies I needed with one arm. Without looking away from the labeled bins, I handed the box of gloves to him, half expecting to hear it thudding against the floor. But no such noise sounded. I handed the alcohol wipes to him, and he took them without comment.

Tourniquet. 

Gauze.

Empty blood bags.

“Two?” Paul blurted out. 

I quirked an eyebrow. “What?”

Paul shifted, and the box of gloves fell out of his grip. He tried to catch it, but failed. We both crouched at the same time, our hands brushing as we reached for the box. I expected him to jerk his hand away like he always did upon physical contact with me, but he didn’t. He picked up the box like nothing had happened. 

Well, not nothing.

There was a peculiar and unsettling contusion in his face. He looked…concerned? 

I made to brush past him, but he sidled into my path with such severity, it nearly made me lose my balance. “Two bags seems like a lot.” 

“Paul–”

“How much of your blood is two bags?”

“It’s not a big deal.” I tried to walk around, but Paul planted himself directly in front of the door. 

“How much?” Paul pressed.

“It’s two pints of blood.” I made another attempt to leave, but Paul threw a hand into my path, somehow balancing all the supplies in one arm. 

“How many pints of blood do you have total?”

“About ten.”

Paul’s jaw went slack. “You want to draw a fifth of the blood in your whole body?”

“The more blood used for the trap, “ I explained as patiently as I could muster, “the more likely it’s going to work.”

Paul was shaking his head long before I finished speaking. “Absolutely not. Losing that much blood is not good for you.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you been to med school? If you had, you would know that blood loss is traumatic at 30 to 40%. Clearly I’m not planning on getting to that point.” Paul didn’t budge, and my patience frayed. “Oh for the love of–what do you want from me?” I nearly shouted at him. 

“I want you to stick to one bag.”

I folded my arms. “Not your decision to make.”

Paul opened his arms, all the materials crumbling to the floor as he set his hands on his hips. “If you try to do more than one, cinnamon sugar, I’ll haul you over my shoulder and carry you out of here. So please just stick with one.”

“You’re threatening me?”

“I said ‘please’.”

I rolled my eyes. “So you’re nicely threatening me?” His only response was to smile proudly. My frustration reared its head, and I quickly tamed it. “Look, we should get started. We can argue about the number of bags later.” 

Paul was already shaking his head. “Oh, no, no, no, no, you don’t get to dodge this–”

“The longer we stand here, not getting any of my blood,” I said with as much composure as possible when talking to a headstrong werewolf, “the longer we stay here, away from the pack and exposed to danger.” 

After a moment, Paul nodded and bent down to regather the supplies.

As we walked back to my office, I realized it hadn’t even occurred to me to lie to Paul. If I’d said it was 20 or even 10%, we wouldn’t have had to compromise. So why hadn’t I just said that? 

I shoved the question away with all my might. It was time to focus.

I prepared all the supplies for the blood draw, and Paul stood, his hands in his pockets as he glanced around at my office. “I need your help,” I told Paul. He stayed where he was, warily watching me. “I can’t wrap a tourniquet around my own arm.”

“I…” Paul scrunched his nose. “I don’t know how.”

I opened my mouth to say something snarky, but then he glanced around the office again. The airs of arrogance that normally pooled around him had gone. 

He’s embarrassed, I realized with no small amount of shock. I wanted to laugh at the idea of this massive, arrogant man being embarrassed about anything whatsoever. 

A small part of me whispered that if I wanted to make him feel the way I felt by the side of that road, I had an opening. I could bring him to his knees. 

But for some reason, I couldn’t make myself do it.

What was happening to me? Was I losing my edge? 

It was Sam and Emily’s fault for being so loving and adoring to each other, it’d softened me up. 

“I’ll show you what to do,” I said, my aggravation bleeding through. 

Paul reluctantly came closer. His warm fingers brushed my upper arm as he followed my instructions, tying the tourniquet in the exact place it was supposed to be. “What’s the tourniquet got to do with drawing blood?” he asked.

“It dilates the veins, making them easier to access.” I pressed the tip of my middle finger to the inside of my arm, trying to locate my antecubital fossa. 

One of the most random things I’d learned in my medical career is how bouncy veins were to the touch, especially when a tourniquet was on. Veins were thinner, had lower blood pressure, and held more blood than arteries. Veins were also closer to the surface of the skin. 

I finally located the vein and lifted up the needle. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re going to stick a needle in yourself?” Paul looked rather green all of the sudden. “That needle looks big, why does it look so big?”

“I didn’t think you’d be so squeamish,” I replied. My arm was starting to tingle a little bit, letting me know the tourniquet had already been on for quite a while. 

Paul stiffened. “I’m not squeamish.”

“Then get back over here and help me.”

“Help you?” Paul’s shrill voice filled the office. “Help you with what?”

“I need you to hold the skin tight so the vein doesn’t roll as I try to get it with the needle.”

Paul took a nervous step back, his arms posed in front of his body like he was in a boxing ring. “Why can’t Dr. Cullen do it?”

“Oh, now you trust him?” I scoffed. Why would Paul suddenly swivel to the opposite side of the emotional spectrum when it came to the doctor?

“No, I don’t trust him,” Paul declared. “It’s just that…he’s probably more qualified to do this than I am.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll tell you exactly what to do.” When Paul didn’t move, I tried to adapt a more comforting tone. “Look, all you have to do is hold the skin tight. You don’t have to watch me stick the needle in or anything. It’ll be easy.”

“Easy?” Paul repeated sarcastically. “Nothing about sticking a needle in your body should be easy.”

The tingling in my arm increased. “Will you just sit down and help?” I swallowed hard, annoyed with having to beg, but having no other choice. “Please?”

Paul slowly lumbered over to the other chair and lowered himself into it. It took a great deal of instruction, but eventually, Paul correctly held the skin taut as I held the needle, hovering just above the vein.

“One,” I said softly to myself, making sure my grip on the needle was relaxed, but firm. “Two.” I took a deep breath, looking up to see Paul’s face turned far away from my arm. “Three!”

The needle went in painlessly enough, but there was no blood flow. “Crap,” I muttered.

Paul shifted slightly. “What?” 

“I missed it.”

“Missed what?”

“The vein.”

Paul’s head whipped around with so much force, the motion probably could’ve powered the hospital. “What?!” His eyes fell upon the needle in my arm. “Oh my gosh.” He clamped a hand over his face, blocking his vision.

“I need you to hold the needle for me.”

Paul’s hand flew away from his eyes, and he blinked at me. “Oh, hell no.”

“Either you hold it or I just let it go, and I’m sure I don’t have to explain how dangerous it is to just leave the needle half in, half out of my body.” Paul gulped as I guided his hand to the needle, my fingers showing him how to hold it properly. As soon as I let go, Paul muttered something in a different language, staring at the wall behind my head.

“Give me…a second.” I felt around the needle with my free fingers, scouting out the skin for the familiar buoyant feel indicative of a vein.

“Just tell me when it’s over,” Paul said, shutting his eyes.

Again, the urge to laugh nearly overwhelmed me. I paused in my search, looking at his face. It occurred to me that I hadn’t really actually ever studied his face. Hot was too crude a word, and handsome was too virtuous of one. He truly lay somewhere in between, forever resting in an area as gray as his fur. If I leaned forward, I’d be close enough to kiss him.

That observation shook me out of my reverie, and I refocused, finding the vein and taking the needle from Paul to redirect it towards the vein. My effort was rewarded as blood started flowing through the tube and into the first bag.

“I’m done,” I told Paul as I ripped a piece of medical tape with my teeth and secured the needle.

Paul opened his eyes, took one look at the needle in my arm, and closed his eyes again.

I couldn’t stop my laugh. “If I’d known that shoving a needle into my arm was the way to shut you up, I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“Okay, calm down there, sugar.”

“Why do you call me that?” The question was out before I realized curiosity was the thing fluttering in my chest. 

Paul cracked his eyes open, his attention centering on my face instead of my arm. “No reason.” His tone was breezy enough, but a faint blush started on his cheeks, magnifying my interest. 

“Oh, there’s definitely a reason. And since I’m the one with a needle in my arm, I think I deserve to know.”

“Hey look, the bag’s a quarter full already,” Paul said in a poor attempt to distract me.

I checked to make sure the tape was still secure. “You’ll have to get the next bag ready.”

Paul’s head jerked up. “We’re not doing another bag.”

“It’s–”

“It’s your blood, and you have a medical degree, and you’re stubborn, but that’s still not enough to convince me,” Paul replied. “I’ll yank that needle out if I have to.” He reached out, like he was preparing to take it out right then. 

I sat back in my chair, feeling slightly woozy. “You could do that, but you could do it improperly and give me a hematoma. Or even cause me to lose more blood.” 

Paul froze. “I could hurt you?”

For all my knowledge, I couldn’t quite discern the meaning of his tone. Was he concerned again? Or was he still feeling squeamish?

And why did I care?

“Tell you what, I’ll make you a deal.” Intrigue shone in Paul’s eyes as he gestured for me to go on. “We’ll stop at one bag if you tell me why you call me ‘cinnamon sugar’.”

Paul sat back in his chair, folding his arms. “This is extortion.”

“What can I say?” I said with a casual shrug. “I get what I want.”

“Do you?” Paul mused.

“Yes.”

“Everything?”

“Yes.”

“Always?”

I hesitated for a moment. “Yes.”

Paul scratched his chin thoughtfully. “No deal.”

I blinked. “No deal? Why not?”

“Well, you did say you always get everything you want.”

“So now you’re trying to spite me by withholding information?”

“Possibly.” Paul leaned closer to me, a smirk toying with his lips. “Or maybe I just want to see what lengths you’ll go to in order to get the answer.”

Something in my chest danced, curiously rising to skim the surface of his brown eyes. “You just love making things difficult.” 

Paul scoffed. “That’s all you, sugar.” He reached out to fiddle with the blood bag. “That’s…” He looked two seconds from hurling. “That’s a lot of blood.”

“We should get ready to hook up the second bag.”

Paul made a noise of disbelief. “We’ve gone over this. We’re not doing a second bag.”

“Unless you want to ‘fess up, yes, we are.” I reached over to my desk where the second bag lay, intending to prepare it, but Paul snatched it up.

“No, we’re not.”

I made another pass at the bag, but my reaction time was so sluggish, Paul easily lifted the bag above his head before I got anywhere near it. Not one to be outdone, I stood up, stretching out my hand for the bag.

I’d underestimated the effect of blood loss. 

I swayed, my center of balance shifting over to my left side, and my bad knee buckled. I nearly lurched forward, only just leaning back to allow myself to fall back into my chair instead of forward onto the floor.

My heart thundered in my chest, and I knew I couldn’t blame it on having less blood to pump through my body.

Falling. 

I’d done it often when my knee first sustained its injury. After the accident and surgery, I’d spent hours doing physical therapy, doing everything I possibly could to restrengthen the muscles around my knee. Unfortunately, knee injuries involved muscles, bones, and ligaments. The complexity of the joint fed into the complexity of injuries to that joint.

The bleakness of my prognosis wasn’t something to face, it was something to avoid. Transitioning to a vampire was the only way to fully avoid it. 

“We’re doing two bags,” I said stubbornly. “This trap has to work.”

Paul kneeled down, setting the blood bag on the floor. “Stop at one bag.”

“No.” I shook my head and regretted it as my world spun. “We need two.”

Paul got to his feet, resting a hand on each armrest of my chair, trapping me into it. He opened his mouth to speak and shut it again, eyes dropping to the blood bag. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed.  “Counteroffer. We do two bags, and you tell me about your accident.”

My heart tripped, falling headfirst into a hasty pace.

Brown eyes dipped to my chest all the sudden, and I remembered the comment Paul’d made about being able to hear my heartbeat.

I didn’t want to give him answers.

Couldn’t give him answers.

“No deal.” I pushed at his shoulders, shoving him away from me.

Paul stepped back, folding his arms. “Since I know you’re used to winning, I’m not sure you know what happens when two people reach an impasse.” I opened my mouth, and Paul held up a finger. “They compromise.”

“Compromise?” I laughed.

Paul didn’t. “Compromise. It’s the basis of every relationship.”

“You’re just saying that because you want me to agree. If I say honesty is at the basis of every relationship, would you tell me why you call me ‘cinnamon sugar’?”

Paul sighed, rubbing his forehead. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Do I strike you as someone who lets things go?” He paused, slowly raising his head to look at me, a sudden sadness in his eyes. I shot him a confused look. “What’s your problem?”

“I’m sorry.”

I sat back in my chair, hardly believing my ears. Did he just…? “What are you apologizing for?”

“For what I said by the side of the road.”

His words rebounded again, as unbidden as every other time they’d replayed in my head. 

Wanting to be rid of you has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with you!

My worst fear, that something really was wrong with me, confirmed by my ‘soulmate’ himself. 

“It doesn’t matter.”

Paul wrinkled his nose. “It does. I don’t have a problem with your…” He gestured towards my knee brace.

Discomfort rustled its wings. “Like I said, it doesn’t–”

“Yes, it does,” Paul said firmly. “I was frustrated, and I said things I didn't mean.”

“I don’t really–”

“I think you’re a very capable person.”

As compliments always did, his words made me want to cringe, to retract my turtle head back into my turtle shell and avoid uncomfortable things until they were long gone. “Can we drop this?” I asked, fiddling with the needle so I didn’t have to look at Paul.

But Paul was on a roll. “I mean, you can’t change a tire, but I can’t stick a needle in someone to get blood and whatever else you doctors do, so it all works out.”

Warmth blossomed in my cheeks like a mellow fever. “It’s not a big deal.”

“And I know I said I wanted to be rid of you, but it’s the imprint bond I don’t like.” My desk creaked as Paul sat precariously on its edge. “I could’ve imprinted on anybody else, and it wouldn’t’ve made a difference.” 

I abandoned the needle, looking up at Paul.

“I mean it,” he said, correctly decoding my expression.

“Whatever,” I muttered. I started to cross my legs, but my good knee bonked against the metal of my brace, so I gave up.

 “Am I forgiven?”

“Paul–” I began to say, more than ready to move on to anything else. 

“Am I forgiven?” he said louder.

“Yes, you’re forgiven!” I snapped, focusing on the irritation at his persistence instead of whatever other feelings were rising in my stomach. “Now will you just attach the second bag?” Paul raised an eyebrow, and I rolled my eyes. Really, I couldn’t blame him for his skepticism, but did he have to be so thorough in his doubt? “I’m not going to do a full bag, I’ll only do half.”

Paul cocked his head. “Compromising, are we?”

“Annoying, are we?” I parroted back.

No reply came. Paul’s eyes narrowed, traveling over my face with a sort of hypervigilance. I suddenly felt sorry for the creatures in biology that I’d studied under a microscope. Is this what it felt like to be measured and weighed? To have one’s behavior scrutinized and written about in a scientific report?

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“Looking.”

“Stop it.”

The corner of Paul’s mouth turned up. “Is it illegal to look?”

“It should be,” I grumbled. “Especially when you should be hooking up the second bag.”

Paul didn’t move, still inattentive to my words in favor of inspecting my face. Had he gone deaf? What could possibly have him paying such close attention, and with such a dreamy look in his eyes?

“You’re still doing it.”

With a start, Paul finally got up, picking up the second bag and crouching to tie off the first one. “Sorry,” he grunted. “The wolf had things to say.”

-

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[cocrante]

Walking the Wire

[SOLANGELO FANFIC]

warning: it contains significant spoilers, please do not read it unless you have read the third book of "The Trials of Apollo". If you decide to proceed, I will not be held responsible.

summary: The dreams at Camp Half-Blood have vanished. Gentle nights embrace the campers in their hours of sleep, but just as the dreams have disappeared, so have the prophecies. For a mortal, this might not mean anything—nightmares suddenly gone, sweet nights wrapped them in the warmth of the sheets—but for a demigod, dreams are the bridge that connects them between the mortal and immortal worlds, an annoying bell that keeps them constantly on alert, and without those to disturb their nights, it was like losing their compass. But not everyone is without dreams, if "dream" this can be called, one is still allowed to travel in the dream world, perhaps out of pity and compassion of the Fates.

note: the chapters will be updated every Wednesday. If you want to read upcoming chapters of the fanfiction in advance, I invite you to follow me on Patreon. Subscribing is not necessary, these chapters will be added for free on the platform on Saturday. Following me there is just a kind and free gesture to support my work c:

Reblogs are highly appreciated c:

[CHAPTER 3]

FOR THE SECOND NIGHT, NICO FOUND HIMSELF IN THAT PLACE AGAIN.

He couldn't refuse their invitation, if they had brought him there; there had to be a reason. In the dense darkness, he could only hear a few sounds: a sigh, the rustling of needles, the clang of scissors echoing throughout that grim, wall-less space. The son of Hades arrived for the second night before the three old ladies. Atropos raised her fragile and thin neck, looking at that young figure – still blooming – frozen in place as he looked at them. A smile, icy and wrinkled, spread across her skin; Nico feared that if she strained herself further, she would turn to dust.

The old lady raised a skeletal finger, shaking it slowly from side to side, whispering with her sweet granny voice:—"Not yet"

The dream ended, and Nico woke up breathless, as if he had been holding it in all along. His head spun terribly, he kept repeating those only two words he had heard in the dream. He should have asked them the meaning of those words, but his voice was held back, there were only a pair of eyes watching that horrifying scene from which he couldn't escape. In the dream, he was trapped. But that night, despite everything, he managed to fall asleep.

He woke up before the sunrise, leaving that cabin that was starting to feel cramped. In the camp, only a few demigods were awake enough to start the day at dawn. At the common mess hall, the nymphs were setting the table with all the delicious dishes that demigods liked. Nico only took a few things and sat at his table, facing away from the rising sun, thinking about the meaning that phrase must have. He assumed it literally meant that no one would lose their life. Not yet, at least. The Fates were just having fun keeping that person in the mortal realm. He wasn't allowed to know the face, but he felt as if that person was already at the gallows and the Fates were the guillotine. They would decide when to strike.

That thought disgusted him. The whole story made him nauseous. He pushed his plate aside, hunger had abandoned him. He was about to go to the arena alone when a pair of hands landed on his shoulders, holding him where he was, a pair of lips kissed his temple, taking away all the heaviness of his thoughts. That kiss pleasantly caught him off guard.

"Don't tell me you're leaving already" he reproached him for not waiting and now, as penance, he had to keep him company.

He waited until Will returned, with a tray so full of food that he seriously doubted the other would be able to eat it all, and the nymphs hated those who wasted food. Nico chuckled, convinced he had done it on purpose to make him eat something more substantial, and indeed, he offered him half of his stuff. The boy wasn't very hungry anymore, but he would never refuse that loving gesture from his boyfriend.

"Want to come to the infirmary?" he asked, biting into the crispy toast.

Nico looked up from his plate, Will was perfect even when he ate. It was a delight to watch him at any time of the day.

"Sure" he replied, finishing his breakfast calmly.

The day went by slowly and, without surprises, at the central pavilion, he shared the table with Will's half-siblings—in the afternoon, Kayla dragged him to archery practice, and in the evening, the demigods unleashed at the bonfire. It was an ordinary day at Camp Half-Blood, except that someone was now waiting for Nico in a dream.

It was something he couldn't escape from, he would have to see those three terrifying old ladies again that night. He said goodbye to Will with a kiss, making plans to meet again tomorrow morning.

Nico entered his cabin, which now looked like a horrid cell. He changed his clothes, feeling the fear enveloping him as he fell asleep, lulled by the sweet sound of the forest, transported into the same dream as the previous night.

He knew the way, he walked briskly towards the three ladies, with the weight of panic weighing on his shoulders. He stopped at the same spot where he froze every night, waiting for their arrival. A beam of light illuminated each old lady. The scene that night was different—they had a different shawl, a different life in their laps. It was less elaborate, rather simple and ordinary compared to what they had in their laps until last night: beautiful and embroidered, with golden details shining in the light, without imperfections or smudges. Atropos moved a foot, revealing the shawl Nico was thinking of. It was on the ground, crumpled up, disheveled like a dead body, his stomach turned. The old lady looked up at him again, smiling and shaking her finger as in the dream of the previous night. "Not yet" that voice repeated.

Nico woke up with sweat on his forehead and an unpleasant feeling in his throat, quickly getting out of bed and rushing to the bathroom.

The next morning, he felt like his father's shadow, and maybe he really was. Everyone at camp turned to look at that grim face, taking a step back as he passed by. Nico didn't even pay much attention to it.

He arrived at the central pavilion, where Will was waiting for him with two trays full of delicacies. Nico forced himself to smile at that gesture, apologizing for his cadaverous appearance that morning. Will was seriously starting to worry.

"I know you're hiding something from me" he said before Nico even sat down. "And I'd like you to tell me what's worrying you"

Nico lowered his gaze to the tray, picking up a red apple from the plate. The last thing he wanted was to alarm him even more, but he knew he wouldn't be able to keep him in the dark for much longer. "I can't say it here" he replied, biting into the crispy, red fruit. Will nodded, agreeing to follow him after breakfast.

The mess hall was slowly emptying out, the two demigods went together to a fairly discreet place where they wouldn't be overheard by others. Will – under Nico's advice – sat on a rock, as Nico's heavy voice indicated it was something extremely serious. The son of Hades didn't speak at first, not knowing where to start or how to explain it without letting panic take hold of him.

"I've been having dreams" he began with the simplest phrase that came to mind.

Will froze, now fearing to hear the rest. "Okay" he replied, allowing him to continue.

"After your father, Apollo, left the camp, I started dreaming about them. It's been three nights that I dream about the same... people" Will was certain they weren't people in a figurative sense, he was more convinced they were someone he couldn't even mention at camp. That made him nervous.

"It's more or less the same dream, the details change, but they are always there" Nico darkened, telling that dream meant reliving it even during the day. "For two nights, they keep repeating 'not yet'" he sat on the rock next to Will's, holding his forehead that had become incredibly heavy.

"Nico, who are you talking about?" Will regretted that question, it was as if a part of him already knew, yet he didn't want to believe it.

Nico said nothing, he looked up into Will's bright blue eyes, wanting to bask in that innocent face for a moment, then raised two fingers, moving them as if to make the scissors sign. Will's eyes widened, feeling as if he were petrified.

It was as if the world had suddenly folded in on itself, all the bright colors of the bay were sucked in, everything collapsed.

"I'm sorry, I should have told you sooner" he closed his eyes, feeling all his guilt fall on his shoulders. "But if I didn't tell you, it's because—" he stopped with the words, looking at that dull sky in his boyfriend's eyes, he couldn't pronounce it, let alone think about it. Since he was told that Apollo had made some oath on the River Styx, Nico had continued to have the same pounding thought in his head. The gods are not able to keep promises, they are famous for forgetting the word given, even if it meant suffering the wrath of the River Styx. Obviously, this bounced off the gods, ending up drastically affecting those around them, sometimes striking their own children.

Nico told himself that the Fates couldn't be so cruel, he hoped they held some mercy even though he himself was the son of Hades. They had taken everything from him: his mother, his family, his sister, they had given him in return an unhappy life spent in darkness, and now they couldn't take away that one ray of sunshine that illuminated his days. Will took his hand, intertwining his fingers with his.

"Nico, it's okay it was just a dream" he smiled, even though those words sounded like a lie.

"No, it's not okay!" he stood up suddenly from that rock, furious with that malignant fate.

"The Fates are mocking me, children of Hades are not allowed to be happy. Look at my father, look at me" tears ran down his face.

Will stood up to stand by him. "Look what they took from me" the boy took his hands, reminding him that he wasn't alone anymore. "Will, I couldn't stand to see you..." he stopped, the words choked in his throat. It was something he dealt with every day, it was part of him, but at that moment, he didn't want it to touch Will.

The son of Hades was surely not good with feelings, he was a disaster with words. Where Hades passed, nothing grew anymore, and nothing grew where his children passed either. Yet he had managed to make a new love blossom from nothing, and he would fight for that love with all the means at his disposal.

"You know" Will approached him, pushing his hair away from his eyes. "If it weren't so macabre, it would almost seem like a declaration of love" they both looked at each other for a second, bursting into laughter. Will had this power; he could bring the sun even in the darkest moments. "Maybe it was" he played along, relieved of that burden that had weighed on him for three days, and stripped of that pain, he kissed Will on the lips.

They stayed at the bay for a while, enjoying each other's company. Playing shyly with their fingers. Surely, Nico wanted to remember the two of them like that: sitting at the bay, hands intertwined, talking about anything and everything.

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[lestappenforever]

Hi. I just wanted to say I love how rational you are. Your answers to asks are so well thought out and thoughtful as well as kind. So keep being amazing.

As for Lestappen going mainstream, there are two sides to it. One is that Max haters want Max to be a villain so badly. They want everyone to hate him and especially the F1 prince (he’s a princess but to each their own I guess) but what they don’t know is Charles loves Max and vice versa. They are the same, they see themselves in each other. Two, Lestappies are also scared because we have a bubble here on tumblr and Ao3 (X doesn’t count because that place is toxic AF) People don’t want that bubble bursted because once it is and Max/Charles get a whiff or any negativity they might start hiding their interactions. But the thing is, of course they know people ship them, just about any celebrity knows people ship them with whatever other person out there, the problem would be breaking the fourth wall and just being outright insane about wanting them to be together or harassing them and their partners about this.

Do people really think if both Max and Charles were not happy about it they’d allow their teams to post about them with the actual ship name??

Also, we have Carlando. Everyone and their grandmother knows about Carlando. Both Carlos and Lando use that ship name. So does Carlos’ dad, F1 commentators etc. So why should Lestappen be any different? Yes there are people out there with no value for basic human decency and lack of common sense but if we are all respectful, I don’t see why Lestappen can’t be as fun as Carlando and even way better. So if some people think they are doing the nasty behind their gfs backs that’s on them, but keep it to yourself or fandom spaces don’t go to Max and Charles or their partners with that bs and that includes their comments or tagging them in whatever. We don’t know the extent of their relationship whatever they are to each other makes them happy and we should be happy for them too.

Looking forward to today’s podium (Lestappen 1-2) and their honeymoon in Las Vegas as per F1 Las Vegas suggested 😉

Good evening, my darling anon! Thank you so much for your kind words. I love getting asks, and this fandom makes me so happy, so I'm very glad to hear that you think that’s reflected in the way I answer asks. ❤️

And you are absolutely right, with everything you've said. Max haters will make Max out to be the villain he isn’t no matter what, and that’s never going to change. But they will be free to live in their delusion because there is no denying that not only do Max and Charles respect each other, they also like each other. Genuinely. The people who can’t deal with that are going to keep trying to convince themselves of a reality that doesn’t exist, which is fine. What isn’t fine is trying to force their narrative on people who clearly disagree with it.

As for them being aware of people shipping them: Oh, absolutely. Shipping is everywhere, and if they were truly uncomfortable with the concept of Lestappen, their teams would not be posting about it on main. It’s that simple. But keeping certain parts of shipping, like fanfics, far away from the people of the ship is a given anywhere, with any ship, in any fandom. That’s something that’s meant to be fun for fans, and nobody should be pushing those things onto the people involved, their partners, their families etc., in any capacity. That’s simply a matter of common decency, and being a reasonable human being.

Shipping is supposed to be fun, and if you take it to the real world and the real people involved, it stops being fun and starts being incredibly uncomfortable for everyone involved. Let’s stay in our little bubble and be happy here, and take the Lestappen content we get on main with open arms.

Oh, babe, me too. I'm manifesting a Lestappen podium with everything I have, and I am so excited for this race.

I absolutely love your take on this whole thing, anon, and your logic is flawless. I love you. ❤️

[chaotictarlos]

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Hey friend! This is such a good question!

I think, for me, it's a moment that happens in my Carlos POV Breakup Era fic I reread that all the time in writing my writing of TK's version and it's the night after they hook up again and Carlos wakes alone. It just hits me every single time and I feel such angst and saddness over it.

From You took the best of my heart and left the rest in pieces

When he woke up the next morning, Carlos felt hungover - even though he hadn’t drunk enough to feel the effects of any alcohol in his system. No, he was drunk on TK, and somehow that was even worse. He sighed, pulling the blankets over his head but he pushed them away just as quickly when he realized that TK’s smell was all over them. It made his heart squeeze painfully - it was a cruel reminder that would fade quickly and break Carlos’ heart all over again. He pushed the pillow away and rolled over onto his back, looking up at the ceiling. He hated that everything around him was just a reminder of what he should have. A reminder that the bed beneath him was too big for one person. A reminder that the loft was too big for one person. A reminder that he had jumped the gun, had gone too far, and ruined the best thing that had ever happened to him. Carlos allowed himself to lay in bed and wallow in the pain for just a few moments before he finally pushes himself to get out of bed. As he moved to sit up, his body protested just a little bit, making him aware of the soreness that ran throughout every part of him. It had been a while since he had been fucked the way he had begged TK to fuck him and he was feeling it. He shifted again just to feel the soreness and enjoy it. A small, physical reminder that TK had been with him the night before and that they had found pleasure in each other’s embrace.  His feet hit the floor with a sigh, wincing a bit at the coldness of it and he briefly thought about finally breaking down and buying a rug for his side of the bed so he wouldn’t be shocked every time his feet hit the cold floor. He shrugged to himself, knowing that he wouldn’t make the effort to make the space more comfortable, and got out of bed, going straight to the bathroom to take a morning shower. As he showered, his mind kept drifting back to the night before and how good it had felt to have TK back in his arms, under his hands, in their - no his - bed. He thought about how TK had told him that he hadn’t been with anyone else since they broke up and when he did, a small amount of hope swelled up in his chest and he let himself think for just a moment that maybe he could do something to get TK back. If TK wasn’t seeing other people maybe that meant Carlos still had a chance. He forced the thought away, though, before it could really take hold because he knew that he couldn’t do that to himself. He couldn’t let himself have hope that TK would return to him. Just because they fucked again didn’t mean anything was going to happen.  A really good fuck that had Carlos wanting to beg - more than he already wanted to - for TK to come back to him, to let Carlos love him the way Carlos knew TK deserved to be loved.  He shook his head, tilting it back and letting the water run over his curls. He shouldn’t be thinking about things like that, the night before had been the last time he would be with TK - he had made that promise to himself. Just one more time to scratch the itch, to feel what it was like to be taken apart by the most beautiful man he had ever seen, and it would be enough. It had to be enough.

Fanfic Writer Emoji Ask

[runesandramblings]

"To The Ends Of The Earth"

Word Count: TBD / ongoing

Content Warnings: none, follows the events from The Hobbit so there will be the expected violence from the movies

Pairings: KilixOC

Themes: crossover Marvel x Tolkien, romance, fanfic, canon-ish events

Summary:

In the wake of The Blip, the multi-verse has expanded knowledge of the universe in ways no one thought possible. For the first time, journeying between realms and realities is a tangible possibility.

Ex-SHIELD agent and Avenger, Lilith Lenore, is hiding from her past, shunning the life she once led. But when an offer from a wizard of another world is extended, she cannot refuse.

Chapter 5: Thirteen Dwarves

We returned after nightfall, and this time we were not alone. On our way back into the Shire we had crossed paths with a few of the dwarves that would be joining us on the journey. I had never been great with names, and as soon as the dwarves had introduced themselves I had immediately forgotten every single one. Bimber, maybe? Bombi? Most of them rhymed, and to make matters worse most of the dwarves also shared a common resemblance. According to Gandalf, part of the party should have already arrived at the hobbit’s home by now. I did remember his name: Bilbo. 

Thirteen dwarves. Bilbo would make fourteen, and Gandalf and myself fifteen and sixteen. Sixteen against one dragon. The odds didn’t seem so bad.

I had fallen behind the rest of the group as the dwarves clamored over each other, speaking excitedly and filling Gandalf in on what they’d been up to over the past however many years. They certainly were taller than the hobbits I’d encountered earlier, though not by much.The dwarves came to about my chin, more or less, with some standing slightly shorter. They all shared similar features: larger noses, chubbier cheeks, and full beards. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” 

I hadn’t noticed Gandalf drop behind the group as well, coming to walk beside me. 

“Just a long day.” I replied honestly. 

Not even a day, really, I thought. Just that morning I’d been in my apartment, in my world. I couldn’t help but wonder how much time had passed there. 

He laughed. 

“A day it has been.” He agreed. “The first of many.” 

We followed behind the dwarves as they walked up the winding trail, back to the same green door from earlier. I stood behind the pack with Gandalf as the dwarves knocked frantically on the door. They clamored over each other again, each trying to push their way to the front as they waited for it to open. They were certainly an amusing bunch to watch. 

The door finally swung open and when it did the group of dwarves tumbled over each other, falling in a mass through the entryway and into the foyer. Gandalf and I exchanged a look, and I saw him shake his head as the dwarves moaned and groaned from their new positions on the floor. 

“Gandalf.” I heard in a small, exasperated voice.

I peered inside and recognized the hobbit from earlier. He was standing, hands on his hips, as the dwarves pulled themselves to their feet and scrambled inside. I followed Gandalf through the opening once it was clear of bodies. I felt Bilbo’s attention immediately turn to me. 

“Who is this?” Bilbo asked, gesturing to me. “She doesn’t look like a dwarf.” 

“This is Lilith, and no she is not a dwarf.” Gandalf confirmed.

Bilbo looked to me, offering an awkward wave in greeting. 

“Hello.” He said. He opened his mouth to say something else before noticing one of the dwarves scamper by with a wicker chair. 

“Hey! No, not that. It’s an antique. Excuse me.” He gave a weary, apologetic smile before he scampered off in the dwarf’s direction.

My eyes scanned the room as I watched him disappear into the crowd. It was as cozy on the inside as it was on the outside. All of the entry and doorways in the home were round to match the front door and the windows. The ceilings were low, and rather than a large open room most of the space consisted of tunneling hallways that led into each individual section of the home. It was lit throughout with warm, glowing candlelight that only added to the comfortable, peaceful atmosphere that Bilbo’s furniture provided. There were plush, cozy chairs in every corner, beautiful carved wood tables, piles of books and papers, and ornately patterned rugs across the floor. 

Dwarves were spread across every section of the home, and despite their small stature they quickly had filled Bilbo's kitchen and living space. They moved back and forth between his pantry and what I assumed to be the dining area, carrying bowls and plates, vegetables, loaves of bread, and anything else they could procure from his supply.

“Where are… Ah. Kili, Fili.” Gandalf called to two dwarves. They were in the corner of the room, attempting to get into a keg. “I’d like you to meet someone.”

The two looked to each other, then back at the keg once more before leaving the task and sauntering over to where we stood. 

They appeared to be younger than the rest of the group, around my age if I had to guess. As they came to stand in front of me I noticed they were taller than the other dwarves. Where the others had come only up to my chin at most, these two stood almost eye level with me. One was blonde, with various beaded braids woven into his wavy hair. He had matching beaded braids in his long mustache, but his beard was cropped short. The other had shoulder length brown hair, pulled back haphazardly with a small amount of fringe left hanging over his eyes. He had no beard or mustache, and dark stubble speckled his face. Both had kind smiles and a playful glint in their eyes. They lacked the features of the other dwarves I had encountered. In spite of my best efforts not to acknowledge it, I couldn’t deny they were incredibly handsome. With the exception of their clothes and surroundings, they would have fit in well back home.

“This is Lilith.” Gandalf began his introduction, gesturing from me to the two young dwarves. “She has traveled from far away to join us on our quest. Lilith, this is Kili and Fili.” He pointed to each dwarf respectively, indicating which was which. The blonde he identified as Fili, and the other as Kili. 

“Hello.” They said in unison, bowing. 

I nodded, uncertain if bowing was a dwarf custom and I should return the gesture. I looked to Gandalf for confirmation, and he simply winked in return. 

“I thought the three of you would get along well. I believe you’ll find you have a lot in common-” 

“Not my prize winners, thank you.” 

The four of us turned in sync to see Bilbo snatching a bowl full of tomatoes out of one of the dwarves' hands. He clutched the bowl to his chest and looked around at the commotion that had taken over his home. I couldn’t help but feel a small amount of sympathy for the hobbit. 

Gandalf seemed to feel the same sympathy as he turned back to myself and the two dwarves. 

“Ah. Excuse me, I believe I need to have a word with our burglar.” 

Without another word Gandalf disappeared into the sea of dwarves after Bilbo, and I was left alone with the two men. The three of us stood for several moments in silence.

“I…” I started, trailing off. I wasn’t sure what to say. 

The two of them stared at me curiously.

“Would you like some ale?” Fili finally asked after a few more moments, gesturing to the keg they had been working on opening before Gandalf had gotten their attention. 

“Yes, please.” I said, smiling gratefully at him. I was thankful someone knew how to break the silence. 

I followed the two of them into the corner, and Fili immediately began tapping into the keg once more.

“So where are you from?” Kili questioned, taking a full mug from Fili and handing it to me. “Gandalf said it was far away.” 

I took the mug and quickly took a sip of the ale. It tasted similar to beer from back home. It was considerably stronger, but smoother. It went down easily and I found myself immediately downing half of the glass.

“I’m-” I started. 

“What do you do?” Fili interrupted, loudly gulping from his own mug. “You’ve got quite a bit of weaponry on you.”

“Well, I-” I started again.

“How old are ya?” Kili interrupted again, speaking over the top of Fili as he did so. “You don’t look much older than us. I’m 77, Fili’s 82.” 

“I-” I stopped, processing what he’d just said. “Wait you’re what-” 

One of the much larger dwarves appeared suddenly from the kitchen. He came to a stop behind myself and Fili and clapped his hands down hard on each of our shoulders. The mug in my hand shot forward, spilling ale down the front of my pants and onto the floor. 

“Let’s eat!” 

[cybernightart]

I was watching a video on the pictures of mental disorders like ADHD and autism (and more) and it made me think of this. It's kinda rambley so be warned.

I love the head cannon of Genji having ADHD and/or autism as someone with ADHD and in the process of getting an autism diagnosis myself, I can definitely see myself and quite a lot of his character in the way he acts or interacts with other characters in the world around him.

And there has been a few fanfics or just things I read in general of people with the same headcanon and I know it's unintentional, but the amount of times that characters feel like they're being infantilized, made out to be stupid or annoying, completely unaware of themselves, or very stereotyping about ADHD and autism is quite often. And I know it's because of media portrayals and just not much understanding. It can just be a little disheartening sometimes, especially when it no longer feels like the character because they pushed them so far into stereotypes that it doesn't feel like them anymore.

There's some things about having ADHD specifically that are like dead giveaways if you know what you're looking for, but the most common thing I see being done is the hyperactivity part, I've seen betrayals of Genji where he's just non-stop talking constantly bouncing off the walls of so much energy and it's just hyperactive all the time. And as much as hyperactivity is a part of ADHD, most often than not hyperactivity is internal in adults (also when girls and women) so they may be having a million thoughts at once but could be standing there with their arms crossed staring into space (totally not talking from experience XD) or if they are rushing around doing things they're jumping from different tasks to task and then remembering the task they started going back to it and it's just a constant cycle. Plus as you grow up you get a better understanding of how your individual experience with ADHD works and you can learn to cope with it more, and if you've accessed medication.

We know Genji used to be really impatient, and struggle with his attention and a whole bunch of other things canonically, and he only ever did things that he was interested in because he couldn't physically do things he didn't care about (like how he didn't find interest or like the clan activities but loved playing video games and training) and similarly defiant or oppositional behavior is another trait. He even fits with the common problem with ADHD even insomnia, with him being unable to sleep in anything up staying up late talking with Angela. ADHD can also influence emotional things like having stronger reactions with anger or rage, that seemingly come out of nowhere or are far larger than what caused them.

And now with zenyatta's help he was able to find ways to help him regulate his attention more, help him to be more patient, and try and keep on the same train of thought. By no means is he "cured" he has just accepted who he is and is able to find ways to help him in his daily life.

Anyways to get back to what I was saying before, there's just times that I've been reading these fanfictions and stuff and it just feels like there is no understanding or very little understanding of what she's actually like to deal with and not just from an outsiders perspective looking at someone with ADHD. Because so much of it is internal. And even with physical aspects of it they're not ...good... Like headaches, rashes, emotional outbursts/very strong emotions like with rage, sadness, even joy, not to mention RSD (rejection sensitive dysphoria) which feels horrible and makes you feel like every little thing you do only makes the people you care about hate you more or never liked you to begin with, sensitivity to sensory input like lights and sound and specially touch. And it being simplified to just hyperactive "oh sorry I can be forgetful sometimes"/"I'm not like other girls"/ "oh I'm so hyper! I have soooo much energy" just doesn't feel good.

This applies to not just Genji and depictions of ADHD but characters in media in general. I didn't speak on autism as much, because even though it's very likely I have it I am not fully diagnosed yet so I don't want to speak on it too much in terms of personal experience. Also not judging anyone for the way they write characters or anyone in particular, it's just more occasional tidbits I pick up on from time to time from everywhere from the OverWatch community to media and to film and TV.

[zanrelley]

Adrift 14

ROTTMNT Fanfic

Summary:

 Leonardo isn’t rescued from the Krang Prison Dimension by his brothers, forced to flee from his cellmate in the void. The greatest ninja warrior of all time has to learn how to adapt to his new home, traversing low gravity, discovering the usefulness of spaceship corpses from worlds far beyond his own, and finding ways to survive such a harsh abandoned world.

Chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13

AO3 Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen: There's Purple Everywhere

Word Count: 4.3k

 When he woke up that morning, Casey wasn’t entirely surprised to find himself alone in Splinter’s bedroom. Raph and Mikey had left at some point and the aforementioned fatherly rat was nowhere to be seen either. He allowed himself a yawn and a stretch as he sat up, regretting not accepting Mikey on his offer of borrowing his or Leo’s spare PJs for the night before they went to bed.

 He felt a bit stiff, but it wasn’t anything he wasn’t already used to back home, pausing as that thought crossed his mind. It was just a little ironic to think of a place like that as home compared to where he was now, even if it had many similarities with the present company. He sighed as he hopped off of the weird bumpy mattress Splinter called his bed as he dismissed the idea entirely, thinking about anything related to his original dimension just exhausted him, he would rather avoid it altogether for right now.

 Casey purposefully waltzed out of Splinter’s bedroom without putting on his extra gear, having left it on the floor from last night. There wasn’t any reason for him to wear it in the lair, he would only need it if they left for another mission.

 Speaking of doing things outside of the lair, Casey needed to find the others to see what the plan was for today, they had mostly been hanging around the lair as of late, other than the trip he had taken with Donnie yesterday. Raphael had mentioned Donnie probably needing them to go for a scrap run at some point to get him some more supplies for whatever he might be making to rescue Leo. Now that he thought about it, Raph had been muttering about Donnie all night, maybe he and Mikey went to go check on him this morning.

 Casey walked out into the common space of the lair, passing through the projector room and down the steps to where the train cars started. He assumed Donnie would be in his lab, that was one thing that didn’t change with time, and he was proved correct as he jogged the rest of the way when he heard voices echoing off the walls as he got closer.

 “I don’t have time, I put it to the side to work on later. This takes priority. I’m only one turtle Raph, I’d clone myself but that would take time away from this too.” He heard Donnie’s voice first, pushing the ajar door open wider so he could step fully inside. All three of the turtles were there, Donnie was crouched on Raph’s shoulders as the snapper was leaning against a weird giant metal pod thing and Mikey was handing tools to the four mechanical arms coming out of Dee’s battle shell. Raph offered him a wave when he noticed him, which he tentatively returned as he walked further inside the room.

 “But Dee, you said you might be able to strengthen the radio from our end, if you can do that, wouldn’t we be able to hear Leo?” Raphael asked, grunting as Donnie shifted to put a foot on his head to reach around to a new angle on the pod’s roof.

 “I did not guarantee that, but, Leo cannot respond to us through the radio and I am also developing a theory he can’t hear us as well as we thought. I was asking him questions last night, and the data I gathered proved my theory correct. I noticed an inconsistency and started asking him random questions.” He turned and lifted his goggles to look at his older brother.

 “Did you know Leo is no longer a turtle and never has been? I asked him and he said no.” He informed them with a straight face before putting his goggles back on and turning back to his work. Mikey giggled while Raph made a face. Casey went to sit next to Michelangelo as he listened to the conversation, the box turtle gave him an affectionate shoulder bump before returning to attending to Donnie’s robot arms.

 “I mean, isn’t there a chance he is telling the truth?” Raph tried to poke around with Don’s logic, a dangerous game for anyone.

 “Indignant scoff. I highly doubt it, dear brother. From what my comatose lab partner has told me, the Krang looked like that before during and after entering the prison dimension, I doubt Leo was affected by it or anything else there.” He started to weld again, startling Raph as the sparks spewed everywhere around him from above.

 “Donnie!” Raph tried to protest, doing his best not to move to offset his younger brother’s balance. Donnie noticed his protest but continued to weld anyway. Casey and Mikey shared a short giggle.

 “But, wouldn’t it be easier to make sure Leo is okay if he could answer back? Maybe he could help us get him home from his side.” Casey prompted the purple turtle. Donnie glanced his way as he let his head quirk to the side at the question. He hadn’t thought about it from that angle before, it wasn’t like Leo didn’t have access to materials to build something similar to Donnie, tools were limited, but if they truly had open communication he could simply tell Leo what to do to solve that problem. There was the entire half of the Technodrome obliterated on his side of the dimension, that was a decent amount of materials to workshop into… something.

 He doubted he would run into the attention span problem with Leonardo in this predicament, he had no choice but to listen to his twin for once when he info dumped. But, there was still his concern about time. Maybe he could afford to fix their communicative link for the time being, if he had Leo working on something from the other side, things might go faster and turn this puzzle into an easier one to solve.

 Before he could even begin to concede and pause working on the Leo-Pod, his lab door was thrown open with enough force to create a crater in the concrete wall. Donnie was startled, comically falling off of his brother only to be grabbed and held by an equally caught-off-guard Raph. Everyone looked to the door in surprise, but it faded when they saw their older sister.

 April was proudly standing in the doorway, a cunning smirk on her face as her eyes zeroed in on Casey. The apocalyptic teen had a small sliver of fear run up his spine about what that look meant.

 “I am here to kidnap our newest bro! He is coming with me and Cass to volunteer with city cleanup whether he likes it or not!” April strutted further into the laboratory, playfully ignoring the turtles as she stopped to dramatically raise a neatly folded pile of clothes she had in her hand out towards Casey. The apocalyptic teen raised a brow as he stood and made his way down from the platform he and Mikey had been sitting on to accept her offering of new clothes. It was simple, just an old white tank top and some dark grey sweatpants.

 He gave it a skeptical look, it wasn’t like he had never seen normal clothes before, but he certainly wasn’t used to the idea of walking around on the surface without his typical attire. He especially didn’t want to let go of anything he had left of his Donatello either, he treasured all the Genius Built™ clothes Don had given him over the years.

 But, maybe he should learn to loosen his grip on everything from the… Past? He looked up at April’s eager smile, it was a look that was meant to encourage him, he was sure. She was just trying to help him out, probably planning to show him the world without the Krang’s rule, maybe help him meet some people.

 He returned her smile as he considered what to do with his stuff in the meantime. He turned to look at the others.

 “Can I leave my gear in the lab for… safekeeping?” Casey asked hesitantly to Donnie who was still seated in Raph’s arms. That seemed to shake everyone from their initial shock, Donnie clamoring to get out of his big bro’s hold and righting himself as he nodded, his eyes going wide as excitement filled them.

 “Of course! I could even make some improvements while you’re away if you’d like! I could clean them up, throw in some scented detergent, free of charge.” He seemed a little too eager to be granted access to Casey’s gear as he practically skipped over, but he supposed it was really for the chance to see if his apocalyptic timeline self had done anything he hadn’t thought of or made yet. Either way, whatever he could gain from caring for Casey’s worn armor would probably go over his head, and he was only a little eager to downsize capacity.

 “It's settled then! I’ll be waiting for you in the kitchen. Mikey, I want a few snacks for the road, if you don’t mind!” April teased the youngest in the room as she moonwalked back out into the lair, the orange ninja’s eyes practically sparkled as he bounced out after her.

 “I am going to blow Casey’s mind with my sandwich skills!” He cheered as he disappeared after her. Casey chuckled as he went in the opposite direction to follow after Donnie who guided him to a room to change.

-----------

 It had been a few hours since Casey and April had rendezvoused with Cassandra outside of the sewers and made their way to one of the relief camps the New York citizens had set up along the streets. It was a massive effort, it surprised Casey how fast everyday people who hadn’t seen the worst of the Krang invasion were capable of setting up tents and stalls to freely hand out food and clothing provisions. It was only a little concerning to him when they saw men with guns every few blocks, but April had assured him they must’ve just been police or military guys who were sent to help maintain peace, like keep people from stealing and fighting over supplies and such.

 It wasn’t an entirely unfamiliar thing for Casey to see, but it didn’t feel right not to be able to recognize the “peacekeepers” like he normally did back in his timeline. It just made him glad that he won the argument about whether or not he should bring his hockey stick along, but after a few solid points from his end, everyone caved and let him take it with him to the surface. Casey might’ve been ready to downsize his gear, but he wasn’t ready to stop carrying his weapon around, you never knew where the Krang or the infected could still be lurking.

 Cassandra had been actively volunteering that day, they had visited her at a stand where they were giving shoes away to those who needed them, but April had explained she mostly wanted to get Casey some clothes while there was a chance without spending a whole lot of cash. It was also a tactic to get him to see more of the modern and less apocalyptically rocked New York.

 Casey appreciated the gesture, it was something he had been curious and overwhelmed with since he first got to this timeline, but he couldn’t help but be a bit disinterested. It was hard to think about meeting people when he wanted to be back at the lair and helping the brothers get Leonardo back. But, he supposed when the time came for him to help or fill in a role, they would ask for him to come back.

 It was hard to leave the lair in all honesty, he was used to the whole “no man left behind” in most circumstances from the resistance, walking out of the lair felt like he was giving up on saving Leo. He fought those thoughts back though as he forced an awkward smile as April presented a black T-shirt with a band logo on it, she was gushing about things he didn’t understand but accepted the shirt anyway.

 “I’ll have to play some of their songs for you when we get back, Donnie has some nice speakers that we can drag out to use. I’m sure he won’t notice them missing while working in his lab.” She giggled with a little too much evil glee before turning back around to find more shirts for Casey. He glanced away from her as she dutifully dug through the massive pile of donated clothes to take another look around. So far, other than the Hamato family and April and his own mother, Casey hasn’t seen anyone else he recognized from his version of this world.

 It made his heart sink as his eyes mindlessly scanned the crowd. He watched mothers and their children digging through clothes, groups of young boys carrying jugs of water in each hand as they left the market, and even some people with bandages on their heads and arms. That was one of the few things that did look familiar.

 Until he saw a head of lavender hair shimmying through the crowd. If he didn’t recognize the hair, he did recognize the jacket. Casey’s eyes went wide as he nearly dropped all of the clothes April had piled into his hands. It was Kendra!

 Casey remembered Kendra, and the stories about her brother and friend who ran a group named “The Purple Dragons”  before the apocalypse, before Kendra (from his timeline) had taken the title herself. The version of her that he knew was THE Purple Dragon. She was a high-time rival of Donnie and a passive-aggressive fighter in the resistance.

 It was easy to say that one got along with her, but she did her part and earned respect as she worked alongside Donatello regarding his tech and the advancements needed for their survival. She voiced her opinion loudly about it being a bias that Donatello was in charge of all their tech, that everything went by his design, his blueprints, but no one had the energy to care about her protest. Casey’s Donnie had done his best to keep the ships, bases, and other tech-cored utilities minimalistic to create as much as possible, no one wanted to shift the balance of resources just because someone else wanted to be in charge.

 And Master Leonardo’s word was as close as they got to law, no one wanted to create a mini democracy in the apocalypse, they wanted their orders because they wanted to survive, and they had too much faith in Leonardo to consider changing every method that came under scrutiny.

 They weren’t perfect, but neither was their world, and the world was all that mattered.

 Regardless, Casey went through a revelation as his memories of his timeline’s Kendra ran through his mind, a light bulb going off in his head. Maybe a collaboration between the purple turtle and the purple dragon was necessary once again.

 “Command- I mean- April, I’ll be back in a second.” Casey only gave her a second to react before handing back the pile of clothes she had given him, jogging over to the long-time rival of Donatello. She seemed to be on her phone, but he noticed her eyeballing anyone who came near her as she stood by a stall. What was she doing here? He didn’t see her carrying any clothes or food.

 “Kendra!” Casey called out without thinking, making the girl’s eyes go wide as her sharp gaze snapped right onto him. He saw the familiar hostility there, and for some reason it almost made him relax before he realized his mistake. Kendra doesn’t know who he is.

 He got closer and her sharp gaze turned to a disgusted glare.

 “Do I know you? Are you a fanboy?” She used a tone that made it sound like she was accusing him as she looked him up and down, but Casey wasn’t bothered by it. When you’ve known someone as stand-offish as her for a few years, you tend to learn how to disregard the bite in their words.

 “Sorry, we haven’t met, but I know you. I wanted to ask for-” He was interrupted as he felt a hand grab him on the shoulder and violently pull him back a few steps. He looked over his shoulder to see a very sour-faced April.

 “What are you doing?!” She whisper-screamed from behind him. Kendra raised a brow as she took another glance at her phone, but it seemed to falter at whatever she was reading. Casey noticed.

 “This is Kendra, THE Purple Dragon. She could help Donnie with the pod.” Casey explained in a whisper for Kendra not to overhear with a way too cheerful smile on his face for April’s liking. April mimicked Kendra’s brow raise from a few moments ago, full of skepticism and some disbelief. She glanced at Kendra and then back to Casey.

 “Oh, yeah? Kendra? The girl I have known since elementary school, the one who would trick an old lady into letting her help her cross the road and rob her blind before she got to the other end of the crosswalk? Yeah, let's ask her for help and bring her into the lair and Dee’s lab where she will totally swear not to break or steal any of his stuff.” April deadpanned at Casey as he nodded. Kendra cleared her throat, rolling her eyes as they both looked at her.

 “Look, do you need something fanboy or can I go back to ignoring you?” Kendra asked with clear annoyance in her voice, not even looking at them anymore as her eyes were trained on the glowing screen of her phone, typing away to whoever she was texting. Casey had an idea of who she was talking to, and who she was talking about. He wanted to gain her trust to get her to help the turtles get Leo back, it would also take a lot of strain off of Donnie if he had another computer wiz helping him.

 He had to convince her to help without sabotaging them, he already knew everyone’s extensive history with the turtles, Leo liked to hold grudges even if he didn’t let it affect his role as the leader of the resistance, but no reformed villain went without their history logged in case of betrayal. This was a massive opportunity, Casey was used to the idea of building allies, even if the histories were stark, they needed Kendra to get Leo back. But how would he convince someone as skeptical and selfish as her to be willing to help without any strings attached?

 Casey decided he would have to tell her the truth, it was probably more complicated than any lie he could fabricate, but if he used his knowledge of what happened to the other dragons, maybe it would be enough to convince her, at least this once. April was going to hang him out to dry though if this didn’t work.

 “So, uh, this is going to be hard to believe, but I am from the fu-” April slapped a hand on his mouth as he started to pour it all out into the open, her eyes going wide and crazy as she stared at him.

 “Are you insane?” Was what her expression told him clear as day. Casey gave her a pleading look and she gave up, letting go of his face.

 “I have to convince her to help, I have to tell her the truth,” Casey explained, “It’s the only way to get her on our side, at least for a couple of days.” He tried to convince April, who was still giving him a wide-eyed I-Can’t-Believe-You’re-Doing-This look.

Kendra wasn’t paying attention, still typing away on her phone as Casey went to try again, but he noticed how worried her expression became with her eyebrows coming together as she frowned, biting her lip.

 “It’s your brother, isn’t it?” Casey asked, once again, without thinking. Kendra’s eyes went wide before they grew fierce again.

 “Wow. A real fanboy. You know he isn’t my real brother, right?” Kendra snapped a little too harshly, Casey recognized the hurt in her voice. It was rare for her to ever bring up the other members of the purple dragons in his timeline, they hadn’t made it long during the Krang invasion. Casey remembered the few times she talked about them, alongside those who talked about the ones they lost and missed, he remembered how lonely she had been without them.

 She might’ve been course and rude and kept everyone at arm-length, but she had a family in that group, and they were gone after the invasion. Casey felt a little bad about it, but he had to take advantage of knowing what happened to them.

 “It doesn’t matter. You’re worried about him, right? Is he okay? Did he get hurt?” Casey asked as gently as he could, Kendra was a ticking time bomb of anger most of the time, but he hoped she was less volatile at a younger age. She eyed him with suspicion, lowering her phone just a fraction as she finally gave him her attention.

 “Do you know something I don’t, fanboy?” Kendra asked him with that same accusing tone, hiding her phone in her jacket pocket as if he had learned it from there.

 “I know that you’re worried about your brother and your friend.” Casey ignored the implication of him not being her blood brother, but he had to find a way to connect her and Donnie’s struggles, if he could get her to empathize (which might be impossible) he could convince her to put down her guard and help Donatello with his project to save Leo. Kendra wasn’t leaning into it yet though, crossing her arms and popping out her hip.

 “Do you know me or something? What do you want?” He might as well get to the point.

 “Do you know Don-” April once again scrambled her way into the conversation to interrupt Casey.

 “Othello! You remember my good pal, Von Ryan, right?” April was sweating as she blurted Donnie’s moniker out, not quite sure why covering up his real name really mattered in the long run, but she didn’t want Casey spilling Dee’s real name without his permission, especially to Kendra of all people. Casey was downright confused by that, he had never heard that name before, but he decided to roll with it.

 Kendra’s aura completely shifted to irritation as he could’ve sworn her eye twitched.

 “Of course, how could I forget?” She said it with enough venom in her voice to take down an elephant. Casey felt more nervous from that and the wickedly innocent grin on her face, but he had to keep pushing.

 “Yeah- uh- Othello is a close friend of mine and he needs your help.” Casey started to explain. Kendra laughed, grabbing her stomach as she stagged back from them.

 “Oh-OH! No! No way he has you guys coming to beg me for help! Oh, I need to record that, can you get him to say that himself? That he needs my help?” She laughed again, causing a few passersby to glance at them curiously. Casey had an awkward smile as he waited for her to stop, but she didn’t.

 “You-HA! Do you really think I would help Othello Von Ryan? That loser!” She giggled maniacally at the thought. April rolled her eyes as she took charge.

 “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Kendra. Look, this is serious. You know how your brother is messed up or whatever, Othello is going through the same thing.” April explained in a deadpan voice, and Casey was eternally grateful for it. If anyone was able to coax something out of Kendra, future or present, it was Commander O’Neil.

 Kendra seemed to sober up after that, her laughter dying quickly as surprise crossed her expression for a few seconds before reverting back to her stand-offish glare.

 “Oh. And why would he need me?” Kendra asked, seemingly without her own permission for the words to come out as she looked sheepish about asking, her curiosity about her biggest tech-making rival supposedly needing her help taking over. April sighed dramatically.

 “Look, it's a lot to explain, the Krang came and basically took his brother- my brother too, by the way- and we can’t… Find him. Othello could use more help making his… device to find him.” April admitted, trying not to get too specific, the time would come to tell her the truth about the scale on which they can’t “find” Leo, but that wouldn’t happen if they don’t convince her first. Kendra seemed to consider it for a moment, eyeing April before looking at Casey.

 “And what do I gain from this?” Kendra asked, which April saw coming.

 “How about Othello helps you with something in return?” April offered, which she knew would definitely cause a fight between her and Donnie, but if Casey’s idea worked and everything went smoothly, this was worth the headache of anything Kendra could do. Kendra seemed interested, but still somewhat unconvinced. Casey sighed.

 “Kendra, look, we lost someone in our family. We want to get him back. We’re worried about him, we don’t know where he is or if he is safe. We just want him back home with us.” Casey was practically pleading now, and it seemed his puppy-dog demeanor was working on her, just a little. Kendra’s eyes softened a bit as she looked away, frowning. He felt like she wanted to say something, but she held back.

 “Fine. But I’m not working for free. Von Ryan better compensate me for my time like you said he would.” Kendra’s harsh glare returned as she set her terms. Casey and April both nodded.

 “I’ll text you when we’ll meet up for it.” April decided to end the interaction there, dragging Casey by his arm before he could get them into more trouble with Donatello.

[skywardsister]

The Stanley Parable- Sick Day

Here’s a little TSP fanfic I put together after getting drawn back into it through Ultra Deluxe:

“He got up from his desk and stepped out of his office,” said the Narrator right on-cue, just as he did at the beginning of every restart. This time, the lone human did not rise from his office chair and embark on their routine adventure.

           “Stanley?”

           The human in question slouched in his seat but gradually peered around his desk with bleary eyes, the sudden light from his open door drawing a wince out of the man. Well at least that got him to rouse from his stupor. Rather than standing up and heading out to explore his empty workplace, however, Stanley simply lurched forward and hacked a grainy, wet cough that stung his chest and made his head throb something fierce. It was the Narrator’s turn to wince from the sound.

           Was Stanley really… ill? Was that even possible in the game? Stanley’s thoughts read as a murky haze instead of his usual coherent stream-of-conscience. The man blinked languidly and sputtered into the crook of his elbow once more, sinking slightly in his chair. Stanley briefly felt the light pressure of something invisible pressing against his slick forehead and then withdrawing in an instant.

           “Stanley, you’re… you’re burning up!” The Narrator exclaimed. This wouldn’t do- not at all. “Alright, just give me a moment.”

           Stanley mustered up a questioning look to those words; what was the Narrator doing now? In the following moments of uncomfortable silence, the man resigned himself to waiting. He hung his head and breathed slowly, feeling his chest crackle with the effort.

           “Okay, please head to the employee lounge.”

           That was unusual. Stanley cocked his head to one side. The employee lounge wasn’t part of the Narrator’s story, and the very thought of deviating from the Narrator’s plot always brought forth a torrent of snarky, impatient remarks. Stanley didn’t expend the energy to question it, instead opting to will himself from his seat at last and stumble from the confines of his cramped office space.

           The sick man knew the route to the lounge by heart after disobeying the Narrator and venturing through the incorrect door an unknown number of times, yet the destination seemed much further away with the man dragging his feet. Stanley noted a quiet sigh from the Narrator; for someone who used to forge ahead without hesitation or regard, Stanley’s ambling shuffle was pretty pathetic.

           Stanley took a long moment to rest his full weight against the doorframe when he arrived at the spacious lounge area. The mere sight of the ocean-blue carpeting was a blessing in itself. Nothing appeared to be different about the plain couches and coffee tables Stanley was used to seeing until he noticed that the vending machine at the wall had a completely new design, boasting steaming bowls of soup rather than a silver can of generic cola. The table closest to the machine had a single pristine spoon ready for use.

           There wasn’t a slot to insert coins anywhere on the front, so Stanley stood weakly in front of the machine and tentatively pushed one of its buttons; in no time flat, it deposited a sealed plastic bowl for the man with a thud. He eased himself down onto the nearest couch and peeled back the seal on the top, breathing in its savory aroma before spooning himself some of the warm broth. Eating wasn’t a common occurrence to Stanley as he didn’t suffer hunger here in the office, but the liquid soothed his strained, aching throat.

           “I know I don’t have the most experience treating humans and their many uh, vulnerabilities,” came the Narrator’s voice hesitantly. “But I am aware that-” He was interrupted by a satisfied sigh. Oh thank goodness, it seemed to have already been helping. Just the sight of Stanley relaxing for the first time since the start of this run allowed the Narrator to release some tension he didn’t even know he’d been storing as well.

           “I can’t guarantee that restarting will cure you,” began the Narrator. “But regardless, whenever we restart can be up to you. It doesn’t have to be immediate.” Delaying the inevitable wasn’t necessarily going to do Stanley any favors, but it was a little kindness anyway. The human nodded in response, a “thank you” resounding in his mind.

The Stanley Parable is by CrowsCrowsCrows, the story is mine (please don't use my work without my permission- thanks!)

[how-queerious]

honestly tired of straight fans of shows who can't understand the queer subtext or echoing of queer experiences in media. whether it is intentional on behalf of the writers, specific acting/directorial/framing choices, or simply storylines that are so near to real life queer experiences that neither the writers room nor the "stage team" intended. this also applies to costuming details (i.e. Eddie's black handkerchief in Stranger Things) and lighting choices (see any instance of bisexual colour palettes in emotionally charged or intimate scenes).

These straight fans are really beginning to get to me. and i say straight fans because in the instances I'm seeing its predominantly cishet men and women (teenage and up typically) shitting on queer fans and the essence of fandom in general. the ones who have been making me particularly frustrated lately are straight fans of Stranger Things and Critical Role (as they are two of my biggest interests atm). I want to dive particularly into the Stranger Things piece, as I have many thoughts on the matter. If you want to read my thoughts, you can click Read More. If not, feel free to scroll.

Let's start with the straight fans, particularly younger (mid teens to early 20s), of Stranger Things. They are pushing forward a lot of hate towards fanworks, particularly fanfic, fan songs, and cosplayers. The specific fics and costumers are typically those who portray any kind of queerness or are writing or playing Steve/Eddie (Steddie) and Robin/Nancy (Ronance) from what I've seen, though general hate for cosplayers is increasingly common as well. These fans both publicly and privately berate, mock, and harrass creatives within the fandom space, using the tired rhetoric of "historical accuracy" (because queer folk didn't exist in the 1980s but the in series homophobia that comes to the point of violence did) or "they can't be gay because they're straight".

The "x character cant be gay because y" line is rampant among all age groups of Syranger Things fans, which is disheartening for people new to fan spaces and frustrating for more experienced fans.

The most popular version of this is to say that Steve Harrington can't be anything but straight because he has only extremely explicitly been interested in women. However many of the actors themselves beg to differ, including Joe Keery who plays him. Keery has repeatedly made character choices such as long glances to other male characters lips (Gif 1), getting physically closer than necessary to other male characters (Gif 2), and treating them very similarly to explicit female "love interests".

Having explored Steve's side of the equation, I think its pertinent to discuss Eddie's as well. With Eddie its much harder for the straight fans to make an argument that Eddie could never be queer. He more openly flirts with Steve* (Gif 3), appears to know and use the Hanky Code (which I'll expand on in a moment), and was never presented as the popular macho male type. He is a social outcast, a pariah for both his drug dealing and interests in metal and D&D. He also has a subtly hinted interest in BDSM, as noted by the handcuffs on his belt (Gif 4) and the black handkerchief in his back pocket (Gif 5). The latter is in following the 1980s Hanky Code that was popular in the queer community from the 70s on, though has been diminishing over the paat two decades or so.

*- Joseph Quinn (Eddie's actor) has openly stated that he is playing that angle on purpose, and improvised many of the lines that heavily indicate it. This has been stated in multiple interviews.

There is, however, a secondary issuewith straight fans in relation to Eddie. Straight fans who are shipping Eddie and another character Chrissy Cunningham have a habit of reducing Chrissy to a sweet, simple girl who should get with the "big, strong, masculine bad boy", there by doing a great disservice to both characters, and Chrissy moreso than Eddie. These fans are undercutting the complexities of Chrissy's character and flattening her into a one-dimesional girl-next-door esque young woman, rather than the complex and traumatized person she is. She is sweet and kind (the only highly femme cast member who is not rude or bullying to our main group), but she is also starting to come out of what seems to be a controlling relationship, undergoing abuse from her mother at home, and grappling with an eating disorder. She is a character showing signs of depression, who came to Eddie initally for ketamine to deal with visions from Vecna, and found a possible friend and confidant in Eddie. The two bonded over reputaions not matching up to reality (the vapid cheerleader, the freak who worships satan), and that was a friendship Chrissy needed and deserved. The straight fans reducing her character to a sweet girl for Eddie to corrupt or making her purpose be to "fix" Eddie are harkening on some pretty misogynist stuff to do so, in a way that sets my teeth on edge.

All this is not to say that straight interpretations of Steve and Eddie are wrong, or that shipping Eddie/Chrissy (Eddissy) is inherently bad. It is the attitude towards the queer fans, the rhetoric that eludes to queer fans and fans who are queer allies being delusional for interpreting the characters as queer, the misogynist undertones of many Eddie/Chrissy shippers portrayal of their relationship, and the overarching disrespect these fans have for fandom space and expression. That is what irks me so much.

Anyways, thank you for sticking around to finish the post! If you have anything to add to the discussion, for or against my points, feel free to reblog or comment. Just please be respectful of each other, the discussion space, and myself. Any bullying, harrassment, or juvenile name calling will result in a removal of the comment from the post and a block. Peace out homies!

[potionsclasss]

CAN YOU BELIEVE I WROTE A FANFIC me neither ok so please let me know and reblog/like if you enjoy this! If you want more content, or a part two lmk. Feedback criticism etc. are always welcome too! Enjoy!!!

Summary: The tension between you and Draco has been palpable, and you wonder if the night of the moonlit ball will bring it out of the shadows ;)

Pairing: Draco x Reader

Warnings: Smut, possessive Draco, slight

Daddy kink.

Word Count: 2.9k

Star Gazing

The sky was like an abstract watercolor on the night of the Yule ball. It was a smattering of deep purple and pink smeared across the horizon, dotted with glittering stars. It reminded you of the glass of wine you knew you’d be having in some grimy dorm room at an after party, messy and warm in the pit of your stomach. Stepping out of the deep green accented dorm to get some air, you could make out the twins of Gemini up above. They reflected off your cold metal rings as you looked up, fingers curling around your champagne flute glass. Your heels clicked on the pavement as you withdrew from the railing and walked back inside, forest green dress trailing airily behind you. It wasn’t even cold out, but you felt a sudden shiver up your spine at one thought not even the stars could distract you from- him. Surely he would be at the ball. He seemed to be appearing more and more lately, it was almost a dance the two of you did.

First, it was the obscenely long held eye contact at dinner. His icy grey eyes stared into your honey brown ones with an emotion you couldn’t quite gauge. Even with Pansy giddily whispering in his ear, he kept his eyes trained on you, slowly pulling the vanilla ice cream clad spoon from his pink lips until you could feel the tiniest bit of blood rush into your cheeks. You would always look away first, but that didn’t stop the sensation of his stare lingering on you even as you stood up to leave with Daphne.

Then, it was him showing up in your potions class. You would watch his pale ring clad hands stir his Pepperup Potion. They moved in soft, confident, meticulous circles. The slytherin crest seemed even more prominent on his broad chest and your Amortentia potion turned sour as you imagined the milky white skin underneath. When he finally worked up the courage to ask you a question about the proper way to cut an Alihotsy, you thought you imagined the way his eyes glanced down to your pink puffy lips, if just for a moment, and how he leaned into you just a little closer to smell your sweet vanilla and lilac perfume he so often fantasized about behind closed doors.

In the common room, you always found an excuse to sit just a little too close to him on the couch. His warm minty breath would be near your neck and his thigh would bumped against yours while you and Theo giggled at him during his fights with Crab on which dark spells should actually be banned. He was intoxicating and you were starting to fall... hard. More and more he not only consumed so many of your waking thoughts, but your subconscious ones. You couldn’t shake last nights dream. His shirt was half unbuttoned and his hands were around your neck as he sloppily kissed you roughly and walked you backwards till you hit a wall and-

“You realize we’re going to be late if you don’t snap out of it, don’t you”

You turn your neck over your shoulder at the sound of a collected deep voice to see Blaise hanging onto the doorframe. He does look beautiful, positioned looming in the doorway. A half smile quirked on his face tells you he’s been watching you wonder around absentmindedly.

“Fresh air calms me down.” You admitted earnestly meeting his dark chocolate eyes. He strode forward and shut the outside door that you had left open during your pondering, and met you in the middle of the room, taking your arm delicately in his. “What’s there to be nervous about?” You could tell he was teasing you a little, in a sweet boyish way. You glanced up at him through your eyelashes to meet his gaze. Blaise was handsome and quiet, and you were relieved he’d asked you to go to the Ball - as friends. But you certainly weren’t about to tell him the root of your anxiety was surrounding seeing his best friend tonight.

“Oh shut up, come on let’s get going.” you giggled, watching his full lips curl upward at your response.

~

“You ready to see me make a fool of myself?” Blaise teased. You giggled drunkenly nodding, leaning on his broad shoulders for support. His suit was long gone leaving only a white undershirt stained with beer and sweat. You would be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy drunk dancing and joking with Blaise at an after party, his intoxicating smell of green apple and whiskey intermingling with yours, but he wasn’t Draco and he never would be. Overwhelmed by the energy of the room and your date and the red wine in your brain, you stumbled backwards. “I need some air” you slurred. “Again??” He jeered, fingers reaching for the flask in his pocket. You stuck your tongue out playfully and used the wall as your guide to the hallway.

As you stepped into the crisp night air, goosebumps rose on your exposed legs thanks to the short black party dress you adorned. Looking up at the sky, you noticed Gemini was now partly covered by an airy grey cloud passing by in the violet streaked night sky.

“My, my, my Y/N, you know your missing an entire party inside, right?” a voice called out, not exactly cutting sharply through the quiet of the night, save for the distant sounds of partygoers, but more like gliding through the air in his lilting tone. You looked to your right to see pale hair glistening in the silver moonlight that could only belong to one person. “There you are Draco, I practically sent out a search party looking for you. Where have you been all night?“ You knew Draco didn’t like parties if he wasn’t drunk enough, just like you. He looked upwards at the stars, smirking just a little as you neared him. “You know, I’m hardly Yule ball material.” He pulled out a cigarette and offered one to you. You shook your head and watched as the lighter shadowed his lips and illuminated his hollow cheekbones, hanging from his pursed mouth. He looked over at you, drinking you in and admiring your hugging black dress. He took note of everything. From how it hugged your luscious chest to how it dipped below your defined collar bones that were practically begging for love bites. Your tongue swiped across your bottom lip and Draco could feel himself get dizzy. “Well.. this isn’t the Yule ball anymore is it. This is the after party.” You smirked, taking the cigarette from his mouth to place into yours for a moment. He watched intently as your cheeks hollowed out for a puff and the exhale of smoke reflected off your cherry lipgloss “Come on.” You said firmly, outstretching a hand for his. He looked down for a moment before ignoring your hand and taking you by the waist back inside. His hand was gripping you heavenly and you could feel the space he was touching practically catch fire as he stubbed out his cigarette on the railing before flicking it off to the side.

"Well.. if it isn’t the most gorgeous girl I have ever laid my eyes on" Blaise joked as you returned with your partner. Rolling your eyes at his flattery, you felt Draco’s grip tighten significantly on your waist, moving down almost instinctively to rest on your hip.

“Blaise” Draco said, coldly acknowledging his friend and classmate. Draco leaned down to whisper on your ear, lips centimeters from you and his vodka laden breath running down your spine "I’m gunna get us something more to drink, you wait right here, yeah?" You nodded obediently and watched him walk away, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth, still warm and giddy from the feeling of his hand running down your torso. Suddenly, you felt like his presence was making it hard to stand. You couldn’t be sure if it was all the wine or his breath or imagining those cold rings on your thigh but you instantly felt dizzy and stumbled backwards. “Whoa whoa whoa I got you.” You felt an unfamiliar pair of hands catch you, looking up to see Blaise. “Thanks..” you said as a breathy laugh escaped you absently mindedly, not sure if it was the alcohol or Draco that was making you this way. You could feel Blaises hands snake around your lower back to steady you and you found yourself pressed against his tall strong body, head in the crook of his neck while you caught your breath.

Draco could feel himself seethe with frustration, the sight of you in the arms of his best friend. How dare he touch you as Draco had dreamed of so many nights. He hated the sight. The thought of a man not worthy of a witch like you touching you in ways only he should made him feel an anger he had never experienced. When you rested your head on his chest he pushed past the other part goers instinctively.

Suddenly, He was behind you, holding two glasses of beer in one hand and your wrist in the other. You quickly and embarrassedly released your grip on Blaise. He seemed to think nothing of it, falling quickly into another drunken conversation with a pretty Hufflepuff.

You looked up at Draco, trying to ignore the way your heart thudded in your chest. You’re supposed to be just friends, but friends don’t look at each other with the anger that seeps from Draco right now. Friends don’t make each other feel the things the two of you are feeling right now. His body is tense as he manhandles you outside, and you follow him back to the starlit porch to the best of your inebriated ability. When he knows the two of you are alone, he looks down, internalizing his emotions but letting them spill out of his piercing eyes as he glares at you. “Didn’t you ever learn to keep your hands to yourself?” He asks, most of the playfulness gone from his voice. “Draco!?” You exclaim, confused as how your actions were at all inappropriate. “I was stumbling around and dizzy, Blaise was just there to catch my fall.” Draco let out a quiet breath, shifting ever so slightly so he was standing just centimeters from you, fingers brushing a curl behind your ear. You could feel blood rush into your cheeks and eardrums, and the pounding was so loud you were unsure if you even heard his next words right, as he whispered brushing your bottom lip with his thumb;

“I’m the only man who can touch you like that.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as you felt the weight of his stare on you. He wasn’t quick and he didn’t rush it. You felt one strong hand on your hip and the other gently stroking your cheek as your noses brushed and he leaned in to close the last possible gap between the two of you.

It was far beyond what he’d ever imagined. It was better and softer and much more beautiful. It lit a fire in his skin just by the touch of your soft cherry lips that no one else would be able to. Just by kissing you, he felt more alive and drunk and dizzy than he ever had in his life. You pulled away breathlessly, a blush on your cheeks and pressure between your legs. A string of far off laughter pulled you out of the intimate moment. Your eyes darted around, checking for onlookers, or worse; Professor Snape. Draco’s gaze remained unwaveringly on you. “Draco, maybe we shouldn’t be doing this..here” your voice was barely above a whisper. “Doing what ...darling?” He responded with a half smirk quirked on his lips, leaning in to bite your earlobe gently. “Let’s go then” he mumbled, this time outstretching his hand to meet yours, guiding you through the dark, under the stars of Gemini, through the tumbling hallways and switching stars of Hogwarts, down to a chilly and dark room which he whispered spells and tongues to enter.

“Come here baby” he cooed, as soon as the door was locked behind you. Walking backwards with his motions you felt your back being pressed up against a cold wall as his lips met yours once again, this time in privacy. Stars exploded behind your eyelids as you felt yourself moan into the kiss, satisfied and sloppy and needing more. The feeling of his lips and little scratch of his stubble felt heavenly across your skin. The pendant of his cold silver necklace pressed against your chest and juxtaposed the heat that was radiating through you. His hands found your hips, tugging at the hem of your slutty black dress that had been making him struggle to think all night. You gripped his silvery white hair as he worked on your neck, moaning and urgently needing more. Every movement he made was filled with lust and longing and desperation. He paused before he did anything that could possibly make you regret tonight. In a low and earnest tone he spoke breathlessly against your neck. “Tell me to stop” his fingers were already inching up your dress and his knee knocking ur legs apart to spread them a little. He fought the animalistic urge to rip it off you and ravish you against the wall, knowing you’d make the prettiest noises for him, all alone in the confines of his room. Your fingers fumbled with the buttons on his dress shirt, not possibly moving fast enough for either of you. Just as raggedly you spoke your answer.

“Why in the world would I ever do that, daddy?” Draco melted at your words feeling his pants become impossibly confined against your stomach. He instantly pushed your dress around your hips to reveal a dark green velvet thong he hoped you wore just for him. You tried to be calm but your movement were frantic as you tugged them down around your ankles and whimpered at the sight of him getting on his knees, propping one of your legs around his shoulder. You steadied yourself on the wall hardly able to keep yourself up. As slowly as he could manage, his tongue worked over your folds, sucking and licking as it also paid special attention to your clit giving it immeasurably pleasurable kitten kicks every few seconds. As each moment passed by you tangled your fingers deeper in his hair and his name escaped your lips louder and louder. The noises in the room were delightful to Draco’s ears. You threw your head back at the pleasure of his fingers being added and working and curling inside you, eyes shut, lips parted in a lustful haze. You felt an orgasm quickly building and Draco stopped before you got too close. Whimpering at the lack of contact he smirked as he stood up to meet your mouth once again. “So needy,” he couldn’t help but remark against you, pushing his pants and boxers down quickly. His heart continued to pound greedily, and he practically threw you into the bed in one swift strong motion. As he looked down at you, pinning you onto his covers you noted much of the playfulness was gone from his eyes and replaced with an intense lust that almost scared you. He was obsessed with you.

You spread your legs and batted your eyelashes like you knew drove him crazy and watched as he pulled out his length and sheathed it inside your tight pussy. The sound of his gruff and euphoric moan mixed with your needy whimpers was almost too much for Draco to handle. He picked up the pace, from agonizingly slow to ruthlessly fast. So many nights he had dreamed about fucking you like this. Ravishing you like you were his and only his, as you should be. His head dropped to the crook of your neck as your back arched in both pain and pleasure. How perfectly, wonderfully, wholly he fit inside you. His eyes remained trained on your beautiful face, listening to the angelic noises that fell from you lips. “That’s Daddy’s good girl. Don’t hold back pretty girl, make your pretty noises for me baby.” At that your lips fell open and you screamed his name much to his satisfaction. Your walls tightened around his cock as he continued to rail you, and he began seeing stars from being inside of his girl. Draco’s teeth sank into your shoulder as he released into you, his cum heavy and warm and deep.

Your gaze was clouded and lips slightly parted, almost unable to speak or process your surroundings. You watched motionless as Draco breathed a sigh into your chest and kissed your cherry gloss smeared lips with the upmost affection. He stood, padding around the room to collect his clothing that had been fiercely flung around the room. He watched you, breathless and angelic, wrapped up in his white sheets with his bruises and marks so striking against your pale skin trailing down your body. He so desperately hoped you would fall into a deep euphoric sleep right then and there, next to him, enveloped in the scent of your vanilla and jasmine perfume, dreaming of the stars.